Fade Out
by Ozzyols
Summary: Set during Season 8's Dead Air... Scenes unseen... What is the true nature of Tony's voice loss?
1. Chapter 1

**A recent moment in my life made me think of this episode and gives birth to a new story... I'm just glad that I(as the Bard would say), have such meet food to feed it as Seignior DiNozzo! He's so wonderfully, comically, tragic... Exactly what caused Tony to lose his voice? Feedback always welcomed! ~ Ozzyols**

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><p><em><span>Fade Out<span> [feyd-out]: Noun: Broadcasting; Recording . A gradual decrease in the volume of sound, especially of recorded or broadcast music, dialogue, or the like, usually ending in complete inaudibility._

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><p>oXoXoXo<p>

_One can only stand your voice for so long…_

Ziva's words were as sharp as the knives she owned and just as lethal, and left Tony feeling like a man bleeding to death from a thousand shallow cuts.

It had been a gloriously simple plan. Tony would canvas the male residents of Royal Woods and McGee and Ziva would record and monitor his conversations before turning them over to Abby work her magic.

The first part of the plan had worked like a charm. A hot, sweaty, feet-aching charm that had seen Tony chase down a voice print of every resident of the gated community.

When Tony had staggered exhausted and footsore into the back of the sedan, the snide statements of his two co-workers was the last thing he expected to be returning to.

Now seated in the back of the sedan as the three travelled back towards the Navy Yard, Tony took a moment to assimilate just what the other two had said. Had he really heard them admit to effectively hanging him out to dry because he talked too much?

Setting aside for the moment the colossal breach of protocol McGee and Ziva had made in turning off the surveillance equipment, Tony found himself trying to comprehend how two people he had learned, finally, to trust, could inflict so much damage with a callous handful of words?

Resting his chin against the heel of his hand, Tony let the scenery pass him by in silence. The rhythmic _ka-dunk, ka-dunk_ of the sedans tires rolling over the seams in the Arland D Williams Memorial Bridge louder in his ears than the chatter coming from the front two seats from the other two agents. Or maybe that was just the sound of his own heart he was hearing? A heart unexpectedly wounded on a metaphorical battlefield, a heart that was now fighting to remain whole.

It was rumoured that much like the rhinoceros, DiNozzo's were synonymous at developing a skin so think that the cruelest barbs bounced back off them like silly putty. Tony always had a private laugh at comments like that. If they only knew how far from the truth they were. No, thick skin wasn't the secret to the seemingly unflappable DiNozzo chutzpah, as Ziva would put it. Having a black belt in emotional kung-fu was. Developing a sixth sense about how to deflect or avoid unnecessary emotional complications always kept Tony one-step ahead of the game. Always one defensive wall between his attackers and his own self. _Most_ of the time.

That was not to say that occasionally someone would get in a lucky shot. And just once in a while, Tony would be foolish enough to let his guard down – only to find that was usually when someone would inevitably strike at the core of Anthony DiNozzo with lethal emotional accuracy.

_Actually um, no, we've not been listening for the last couple of hours._

With McGee's flippant remark still bouncing around his head, Tony didn't hear his name being called. Only when there was a sudden rap on the window next to him was Tony startled back to the here and now.

"You comin' or what?"

Glancing out the side window, Tony was astonished to see McGee's pinched features glaring in at him through the window. _How the? He was driving wasn't he?_

A quick glance around his surroundings cleared the fog from his brain. They were back at the Navy Yard, of course. Time had done that weird skipping thing when you got distracted.

In what seemed the blink of an eye to Tony, McGee had gotten them from the Bridge back to the yard. God knows how long he'd been sitting in there, just staring out the window zoning out in front of those two. Great… just another wonderful moment in the life of Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo! Like he didn't have enough grief already.

Climbing out of the car, Tony realised why McGoblin looked so pissed. He'd been waiting to plip the plipper to lock the vehicle which of course he couldn't do while Tony was still in it. Tony absently wondered just how long he had been sitting there.

"That was a bit childish wasn't it?" McGee scowled as they walked across the asphalt towards the main lobby of the NCIS building.

"What?" Tony couldn't keep the confusion or the dry raspiness out of his voice.

"If you want to sulk on your own time because we didn't listen to you yammering away back there, go ahead Tony, but some of us have work to do." McGee pushed heavily against the glass door to the lobby and stormed inside.

Tony stopped dead in his tracks. Sulk? Where the hell did McGee get off thinking that he was sulking? The melancholy introspection that Tony had been feeling before over McGee and Ziva's actions were quickly being eroded away and replaced with anger.

Checking through security Tony found him thinking over his next course of action. By definition 'McBrutus' and 'Delilah' David breached NCIS operational protocol. If Tony gave in to the belligerence that was beginning to build within him and reported this to Gibbs his two team-mates would be in a world of trouble.

Arriving up on the squad room floor, Tony saw McGee and Ziva already clustered around Gibbs desk, seemingly discussing what had happened at Royal Woods.

"Decided to join us DiNozzo?" His Boss commented without looking up.

Dropping his pack down in its usual space, Tony gritted his teeth and pushed his feelings aside.

"We managed to get all forty three residents voice prints…"

About to drop his Sig and credentials back into his desk, Tony's hand froze over the opened desk draw at McGee's words. _'We managed'? What the hell was this 'we' crap?_ Tony felt his already dry throat constrict that little bit more.

"I've forwarded the samples to Abby, she said she should have something for us within the hour."

"Good job Tim." Gibbs nodded. "Goin' for coffee."

Tony gave his co-workers the benefit of waiting until their boss was out of earshot before rounding on McGee.

"Nice work McGloryhound! Need a foot massage for all that legwork you did?"

"Now Tony, you know there's no 'I' in team." McGee smirked.

Tony felt his molars squeak as he clenched his teeth harder.

"We were sent to do a job and we did it." Ziva stated matter-of-factly. "There is no need for you to be a Sourwuss about how it was done."

Tony flicked a glare towards Ziva. "Firstly, it's Sour_puss_ and secondly, don't talk to me about jobs, Probationary Agent David until you can demonstrate you know how to do yours." Tony could feel the backs of his ears beginning to burn. He had to get out of here before he said something he was going to regret. "If Gibbs is looking for me, I'll be with Abby!"

Watching Tony's retreating form, the two younger agents shared a puzzled look.

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know." McGee pondered. "But with Tony, it could be anything."

Pushing their co-worker's odd reaction to one side, McGee and Ziva set about digging deeper into Adam Gators life.

oXoXoXo

"Hey Abs." Tony half croaked as he walked through the forensics lab door.

"Back from the land of desperate housewives?"

"Masking taped rosebuds and all." Tony grinned walking over to stand next to his friend.

"I thought that was an urban myth?"

"Nope, little sister of one of my college buddies did the back lot tour last January and caught the props guys sticking flowers on the bushes with green masking tape, sent him the photos to prove it.

Abby sighed heartily. "Another illusion shattered."

Tony blinked. "Abs you're a scientist, don't tell me you… y'know… watch that kinda thing."

Abby awarded Tony with a bemused look.

"What do you think Tony? Do I look like a girl who would watch Desperate Housewives?"

Tony held his hands up in defeat.

"So what was it like anyway, was it, y'know everything like the website said? Exclusive, the picture perfect place to raise a family? Thirty-five pockets of picket fence perfection?

Tony reached over and plucked a black rose from the shelf over Abby's station. Sniffing it he shrugged. "It was no biggy. I've seen better."

"Oh… really." Abby grinned warmly at her co-worker. "Got lots of experience getting into gated communities have we Tony?"

Tony countered with a mock glare. "Abs until I was eleven I practically lived in a gated community. It was just ours was a community of one. Everyone on our street was their own gated community. The idea of having a house that was less that a football field away from the neighbours seemed sacrilegious for some reason. Trick or Treating was always fun!" Tony ran his finger over the flower head before returning it to the shelf. "Kids in my neighbourhood loved the tricks…" he murmured.

The last comment caught Abby's attention. Far from the normal joking tone Tony normally had, there was something decidedly melancholy and injured behind it.

Abby cocked her head to one side. "Tony. What's wrong?" she asked quietly, turning to face her friend.

A lightning fast and entirely false smile leapt to Tony's face. "Nothing why?"

Tony swore under his breath. He'd been careless with that last statement. He was as transparent as one of Abby's microscope slides and she knew it. If it had been anyone other than Abby… and maybe Gibbs he would have been able to pull the charade off, but ten years working with two of the most astutely observant people on the planet Tony knew that Abby wouldn't let a comment like that pass unnoticed.

"It's nothing Abs." Tony murmured, trying to avoid the gentle scrutiny of those penetrating olive green eyes of hers. "Well, no, it's something, but nothing you can do anything about."

"But from nothing we can see everything"

"That's very profound Ms Sciuto."

"Thank you, but you're dodging the question. What's going on?"

Tony looked down at his nails. "Abs; tell me truthfully. Do I talk too much?"

"What?" the question was laced with two parts surprise, one part breathlessness.

Tony opened his mouth to speak and felt the tight dryness he'd felt before clench at his throat. It took him two attempts to clear his throat before he could repeat the question, still not trusting himself to meet her eyes. The cleanliness of his cuticles suddenly seeming very important.

"Tony how could you even think something like that?"

Tony muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

Abby was stunned. Tony? Talk too much? Never. Tony was a charming and sweet and garrulous guy who could make you smile sooner than look at you. He was funny and worldly and knew more movie references than Roger Ebert and Leonard Maltin put together. Some people might think he was a bit chatty, but to have the moxie to say something about it to him was… was… unthinkable!

"Did someone say that to you?"

When Tony still didn't answer, Abby jabbed him in the upper arm.

"Aow! Abs!" he all but squeaked.

"Then answer me DiNozzo, did someone say something to you?"

"Sort of, not really, well yeah I guess. It was something Z…someone said in passing. But not in those words exactly, but it still kinda got me thinking perhaps I talked to much?"

"What a dumb idea. And a really dumb person." Abby growled. Throwing her arms around his friends neck Abby hugged him close. "Of course you don't talk to much Tony. You always have just the right amount of words at the right time and don't you forget it!"

Held tight in her embrace Tony sighed. He could practically feel the love pouring off the forensic scientist and washing over him. "Thanks Abs" he murmured.

The tickle forming at the back of his throat finally won and Tony pulled away from Abby just in time to let out a cough only to serve to irritate his throat even more.

Reaching over to her desk, Abby retrieved her ever present Caf-Pow and held it out for Tony.

"Bless you Abby." Tony said, thankfully taking the hefty plastic cup from her hands. "Getting those sound bites could make a man build up a mighty thirst."

Drawing the liquid caffeine up through the straw, Tony's mouth was hit with a riot of flavours. Regardless of what it might taste like, right now it was manna from the Gods, a mighty torrent of icy liquid gushing down the back of his throat.

"Just let the cherry-apple propanoate coat your throat," Abby crooned, "you'll be okay…"

Tony took another gulp. "Wow, I forgot how strong that stuff is! Any hits yet?" he deflected.

"No," Abby sighed, looking over at her baby running voice analysis on the sound files. "But! Listening to your conversations with the Royal Woods Residents was _SO_ much more entertaining than listening to Adam Gators phone calls!"

Tony felt himself slip into a bad Elvis impersonation. "Well than-kew very much, I'm puttin' out a CD."

The bleeping of Abby's machine drew the two NCIS officers attention. They had a hit.

"Voice print for Adam Gator's caller matches lucky interviewee… number eleven."

And where there was a hit, there was a lead. Things were looking up!

oXoXoXo

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><p><strong>AN PS - the story about the Desperate House plants? Very much true. It wasn't the little sister of a friend that saw it in real life, but a good friend of mine did the studio tour in the winter and sure enough she has photos of a stage hand gaffer taping roses to the dormant bushes on "Wisteria Lane". The don't call it Hollyweird for nothin!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the second part to my take on Dead Air. You will note in this section that there is some direct quote/scenes from the episode itself. I needed to use these to establish a clear line for the story. To all my American Friends, my thoughts are with you today as we remember the day the world seemed to change forever. ~ Ozzyols**

"_All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing" ~ Edmond Burke (1729-1797)_

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><p>oXoXoXo<p>

The squad room was a hive of activity when Tony got back to the Bull Pen. Ziva and Gibbs were collecting their gear, McGee stood next to his desk, his pack slung over his shoulder the receiver of his phone cradled on his right shoulder. Glancing up as Tony walked in McGee let it slide off his shoulder to be caught by his left hand.

"Found him Boss!"

The look that Tim shot Tony was faintly hostile. What was wrong with McCranky-Pants now?

"DiNozzo. Gear up." Gibbs barked as he reached over to lock his desk draw.

Sensing the urgency Tony neatly side stepped McGee and deftly grabbed his credentials and Sig from his desk with one hand and his ever-present pack with the other.

"What have we got Boss?"

"A lead. C'mon."

Following Gibbs across the floor, Tim fell in step with the Senior Field Agent.

"Where were you?" he hissed.

Tony blinked. "With Abby, I told you."

"That _whole_ time?"

"Yes that whole time." Tony replied indignantly. "We were going over the sound bytes."

The two men came to a halt just behind Ziva and Gibbs as they waited for the elevator car.

"What? Didn't you get enough of your own voice the first time round?" McGee smirked.

The _ding_ heralding the arrival of the elevator stopped the retort that sat on the tip of Tony's tongue. Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying something monumentally stupid, he stepped into the elevator car and took his customary place at Gibbs right hand side for the ride down to the ground floor.

The first out into the lobby, Tony wasted no time clearing security and heading out towards the parking lot that housed the agency pool cars.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs called. Turning midstride, Tony just managed to catch the set of keys being tossed in his direction. "We'll need two cars. McGee, fill Tony in on route. Ziva, you're with me."

As Ziva and Gibbs pealed off towards one car, Tony glanced down at the key and fob in his hand. Hitting the button and listening for the tell tale squawk of an alarm being disarmed, he was mildly pleased to find it coming from the car immediately to his right.

Slipping into the drivers seat, Tony felt the weight of the car shift slightly as McGee dropped into the passenger seat beside him.

"Where to?" Tony queried.

"Down town. Arthur Haskell is supposed to be meeting a Dieter Johansson a weapons chemist. Mr Suburbia is the front man to looking to buy some explosives. We're going to intercept Johansson and then Ziva is going to go in as the new supplier." McGee hesitated momentarily. "You didn't make Abby listen to all your interviews did you?"

Tony kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road in front of him, his hand tightening at the wheel. "What d'you think McNosey. Of course I didn't. She was running them through voice recognition when I got down there."

"Good." McGee nodded, opening his laptop on his knees. "It's just what Ziva said before, about your voice. It's kinda true Tony. I'm not saying you have a bad voice or anything, it's just a lot to take when it's non-stop, and you have to admit..."

Tony tried in vain to ignore McGee's sudden diatribe about the vocal promiscuity of the very partner he was sitting next to, and instead focused his thoughts on something else. The itch that had been in in throat earlier in the day seemed to have graduated into a tickle that he couldn't seem to shake. No amount of swallowing, seemed to be able to stop that annoying sensation of something being stuck just at the top of the throat neither moving up, nor down. Just sitting there, like a chicken scratching for a worm… and just as annoying. Was it his imagination or was it getting sorer?

"… can you understand where we are coming from Tony?"

McGee's voice suddenly broke through his reverie.

"Huh? What?"

"I asked if you can understand our point of view."

"About what?"

"About the fact that you sometimes… go on a bit…"

Tony shot a look across to his partner. "You still going on about that?" Tony coughed. _Damn this throat_. "Can I point out McPrattle that you've been the one talking this entire trip?"

McGee looked offended. "Sorry if the truth hurts Tony, but someone's got to say it."

Tony swallowed hard once again stopping the retort fighting for space with his niggly throat from leaping forth from his mouth. If McGee didn't let up on his attitude Tony was sure he wouldn't like the results. He could see how it would play out. All he would have to do is talk to Gibbs.

_Hey Boss, just to let you know, McGee and Ziva decided it would better to turn off the live feed from my interview this morning. Left me twistin' in the wind._

In honesty he wouldn't even have to do that, as Senior Field Agent he had the power and the purview to write both of them up over the matter, he didn't even need Gibbs approval, all he had to do was turn the documentation over to Gibbs and Personnel after the fact.

"We're here." Tony commented flatly.

Ahead of him Tony saw Gibb's sedan pull into a parking bay up the street ahead. Closely following suite Tony pulled in a few bays away on the opposite side of the street.

Parking up, Tony reached over an pulled a small plastic case from his pack stowed behind the passenger seat of the agency sedan. Slipping his custom fit earwig from its holder, Tony clipped the mic to his lapel and slid the earpiece neatly into place in his left ear and turned the power pack on.

Beside him, McGee was following a similar routine.

"_Ears on DiNozzo?_" Gibbs' voice came clearly through his earpiece.

"Gotcha Boss."

"The meet is set for the café at the end of the street at noon," McGee said consulting his laptop. "gives us about fifteen minutes.

"_You're the only one who's seen this guy DiNozzo, can you put eyes on target from where you are?"_

Swivelling in his seat to look out the rear view window down to the café, Tony scanned the crowd. He was about to report a negative contact when a dark haired man exited the coffee shop and sat down at one of the alfresco tables.

"Yep. Got him boss. The guy wearing a dark charcoal grey suit that looks like Siegenthaler from _Switching Channels_." Tony grinned across at McGee. "Great Burt Reynolds, Kathleen Turner film based on the equally classic _His Girl Friday_ with Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell. You'd love it McGeek. Has a very blonde, and very _permed_ Christopher Reeve in it playing the role of…"

"_DiNozzo_!" Gibbs curt tone snapped through the earwig.

Tony winced. "Shutting up Boss." From the corner of his eye, Tony caught the whiff of a self-satisfied smirk tugging at McGee's mouth.

"What?" he hissed.

McGee leaned over towards him. "Can't help yourself can ya Tony? It's like you're acting on a compulsion or something."

"_I'll be acting on a compulsion in a minute if you two don't shut up! The compulsion to knock your two heads together you got me!"_

"Yes Boss." The two chastised agents responded in unison.

Tony coughed several times trying to loosen the tightness in his throat again.

Silence reigned the airwaves for several more minutes until Gibbs gave the orders to move into place.

"_Tony, you take the west side of the pavement. Don't let Haskell see you. You and I are going to intercept Johansson when he arrives_."

"On it Boss." The final word came across more as a 'B'hosss' as Tony coughed again as he climbed out of the car.

"_McGee, I need you back here_."

Snapping his laptop closed and grabbing his pack, McGee quickly made his way back to Gibb's sedan. Slipping into the back seat, McGee brought his programs back online.

"Ready when you are Boss."

"Now all we need to do is wait for Johansson." Ziva observed.

Another cough followed by the sound of Tony clearing his throat came across the airwaves.

"Is Tony coming down with a cold?" Ziva asked.

"God I hope not." McGee responded. "Nothing worse than living through a Tony DiNozzo head cold. Doesn't shut up about it for days!"

"_You know I can still hear you McTactful_." Tony's voice interjected.

Tim, winced and looked down at his pack. He could have sworn he had flicked the power off before making that last comment. "Sorry Tony."

"Always treat any mic like an open mic McGee. Saves having to take your boot outta your mouth." Gibbs deadpanned from the front seat.

Standing near the parking metre on the sidewalk Tony listened to the conversation taking place in the car across this street. McGee had been right about one thing. Tony also hoped he wasn't coming down with a cold. They always made him feel a thousand times worse than the cold ever really was and usually gave him the insatiable urge to curl up in his apartment and not show his face until it had passed. But he'd learned how to push through such minor inconveniences and do his job. It was what was expected of him, and DiNozzo's didn't back down from what was expected of them – good or bad, no matter what the personal cost.

Swallowing again, and wishing he had a bottle of water, Tony waited. It was nearly ten past twelve and still no sign of Johansson. Tony was about to call in when he heard Gibb's voice bark over the comms.

"_DiNozzo, go_."

Strolling casually back towards the BMW Cabriole as a tall nattily dressed man sporting a rakish after five shadow oozed out of the driver seat, Tony moved in for the sting.

"Whoa-ho-ho, excuse me, can't park there. Fifteen minute loading and unloading zone only." Tony said jauntily.

A smirking sneer settled on the mans face. "I'll take my chances thanks." He said, his voice betraying a light South African lilt.

Tony felt his predators' instinct kick in as his hand automatically reached for his credentials. "A risk taker… Hi Dieter NCIS."

When an all too familiar smell touched his nostrils letting him know exactly who had his back Tony relaxed and let the suspect pass. Tony couldn't keep the grin from his face as he turned to find the South African staring down the barrel of Gibbs gun.

"I don't have anything on me." The protest of innocence rolling of Johansson's tongue like water off a ducks back.

"We'll see about that!"

oXo

Gibbs had sent Tony to move his car up into the alleyway out of sight of the café while he finished mirandizing and cuffing Dieter.

Tossing the keys to his Boss, Tony took over moving the bomb maker into the back of the sedan.

"DiNozzo," Gibb's called from over the roof of the car. "you stay here with McGee and stake out the meet. Then head back to the yard."

"On it Boss." Tony nodded as Gibbs closed the door and drove off.

Half trotting back to where McGee was sat in the car Gibbs and Ziva had come in Tony winced; the tightness in his throat returning with a vengeance. He couldn't seem to stop the need to cough and clear as he got up to the passenger door.

"Your throat sounds like it's getting worse." McGee commented looking his partner up and down as Tony settled himself in the car.

Ignoring the statement Tony reached forward and picked up the binoculars. "How's Miss America doing?" he asked, his voice croaking like Charlton Heston in _Planet of the Apes_. "Who's she supposed to be again anyway?"

"She's playing herself Tony, from five years ago… before she started at NCIS." McGee could barely contain the thinly veiled contempt in his voice.

Tony let is pass. He couldn't be bothered reminding McGee that he had come to the party later than the others had. That would just add more fuel to the fire. Instead he focused his memory of the girl Gibbs had ordered him to follow half a decade before.

"A sassy rogue Mossad Agent," a wistfulness crept into his reply. "sometimes I miss that little minx."

"Well it's only temporary 'til we found out what our suburban terrorists are planning." McGee replied, fiddling with the Nikon in his lap.

Raising the binoculars Tony analysed his teammate. "She's not doing a very good job. The body language is all wrong! The classic Ziva would have been more reckless; hair would've been... more wild. It was very… sexual… then."

McGee arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "You think Ziva's _less_ sexual now?"

"Compared to the Ziva I shared a bed with five years ago? Yeah!"

Beside him McGee snorted indelicately. "But you guys were undercover. You were just puttin' on a show." Tony said nothing, instead enjoying the frown lines forming on the Probie's face You were puttin' on a show right?" he reiterated.

Tony let his mind drift back to the two nights Ziva and he had been sequestered in a luxury suite at the Hotel Barcley posing as Sophie and Jean Paul Reiner. Five years may have passed, but the memories of that Op was as fresh in Tony's mind as it had been the day they had checked in.

Tony wasn't the kind of guy to kiss-and-tell. Well, not really… okay yeah, he probably was… but this was different. What he had shared with Ziva was just that – something he had shared with her. McGee would just have to put two and two together. McMIT was a smart boy. Tony was sure he would come up with some sort of convoluted equation to get the answer. Besides – there was another very good reason for Tony to hold his counsel on this one… And the reason sat at the end of the street and would kill him deader than dirt if he said anything without her permission.

The interplay between Arthur Haskell and Ziva last several minutes, before Ziva suddenly rose to leave.

"Don't blow it Ziva." Tony murmured peering through binoculars. His worry was unfounded, as Haskell immediately jumped to his feet after her. McGee and Tony watched Ziva's body language relax slightly. "She's got him." Tony grinned, regretting it instantly as his vocal chords seemed to tighten on reflex.

With a curt nod, Ziva sauntered away from the table, a dangerously provocative sway in her step. This was the Ziva Tony remembered. The woman with an infinite confidence in who she was. The woman who challenged him viscerally from the very first day they met.

He lowered the binoculars and looked out the passenger window at nothing. Where had that Ziva gone? The teasing, flirtatious Ziva with a lightening fast wit and an audacious energy had been replaced somewhere by the more stayed, driven, dark Ziva. One whose friendly barbs left definite scars on her victims. He wondered if just too much water had passed under the bridge for them ever to regain that spark they had in the beginning.

He hoped not. But time would tell.

"Haskell's leaving." McGee pointed.

Sure enough, the dark suited form of Arthur Haskell could be seen walking away from the café, and straight towards Tony and McGee's location. Haskell had pulled a cell phone from his pocket and was obviously calling someone. His current trajectory however put him in the immediate vicinity of the agency car.

"Damn!"

Tony dropped the binoculars onto the floor of the sedan between his feet and turned his head to face McGee and positioned his hand to half shade his face as if he was scratching the back of his head.

"What the hell are you doing Tony?" McGee questioned.

"What does it look like. I'm trying not to be made."

"By whom?" a disbelieving frown forming on McGee's face.

"Haskell" Tony hissed.

"Tony. You spoke to the man for like, what a minute… he's not going to notice or remember you!"

"Firstly, you admit you weren't listening to my conversations – so how would you know how long I spoke to him. Secondly, do you want to be the one to tell Gibbs we blew the op because a potential target made us?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Tony, Haskell's passed us… see, there goes his car." He pointed to the dark blue Mercedes disappearing around the corner. "and you really should get a lozenge or something, it sounds like you're gargling gravel. It's bad enough when you're you!"

Tony opened his mouth to respond when back door of the car opened and Ziva flopped down onto the seat.

"We have a meet."

"When?" McGee asked.

"Later this afternoon. He needs to, 'make some calls' as he put it."

"Check your credentials in other words" Tony rasped.

"That, does not sound healthy." Ziva observed.

"Thanks!" Tony smiled sarcastically. "Gibbs wants us back at the yard."

"Right. Now we just need to find out from Johansson exactly what it is I am supposed to be selling."

oXoXoXo

"You get the info?" Gibb asked before any of them had the opportunity to stow their gear.

"Arthur Haskell bought it hook, line and stinker!" Ziva smiled.

"Sinker… Ziva… it's hook, line and sinker!" Tony shook his head. "Not stinker."

"It still stinks to me!" Ziva snapped back.

Gibbs rewarded his team with a flat glare as he walked past them towards the flight of stairs leading to the mezzanine level.

"Tony, check with Abby to see if she has a result on the swab you took then I want you to handle Johansson. Get what you can from him. We need to know exactly what he was supplying to the M A H and where he's getting it from? McGee, you let me know the second that we get a hit on Ziva's cover story. Ziva, see if you can find any other links between Royal Woods residents and Johansson."

After a thorough but futile search, Ziva had found nothing to connect the would be bomb-maker with any other residents of Royal Woods. Stretching her muscles, she toggled to the live feed of the interrogation room on her PC and saw Dieter Johansson sitting by himself in room one. Hoping Tony was going to have better luck that she did, Ziva headed down to observation.

The door to the darkened observation room, opened silently as Ziva slipped inside. She moved across to stand next to McGee.

"This should be interesting." Ziva murmured to her partner.

"What DiNozzo Dinner Theatre?" McGee scoffed.

"That's not fair." Ziva admonished lightly, a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "but I do have to admit, he does love to talk."

"It's a wonder the Boss has been able to stand it for twelve years!"

As if on cue, both the door of the observation room and interrogation room opened simultaneously heralding the arrival of Gibbs and Tony respectively.

"What do you know McGee?" Gibbs asked addressing McGee but watching through the glass as the Senior Field Agent coughed several times and tried to clear his throat.

"Someone has looked into Ziva's cover, about twenty minutes ago. They're not too bad, but not great either." McGee responded.

"Ziva?"

"No associations that I could find. If he has had dealings with the Royal Woods members, it has been very much on the down low."

An unexpected squeaking noise from the other side of the glass caught Ziva and McGee's attention. Turning from Gibbs back to Tony's interrogation, Ziva's eyes widened slightly as she realised something was definitely not normal.

"I'm sorry, I can barely hear you. You're going to have to talk up." Dieter was saying.

"Start talking!"

The pitch of Tony's voice was unlike anything Ziva had ever heard him utter before. It was at the same time horrifying and mildly amusing.

The bomb maker was taking full advantage of the situation gesturing a lack of understanding. The three Agents watched as Tony made one more attempt to speak before Gibbs abruptly left the room to go to his Senior Field Agent's aid even just as Tony turned and called for help through the glass.

"Did what I think just happen, just happen?" McGee asked in a stunned tone.

"If what you think just happened was Tony losing his voice, then yes. It did." Ziva replied.

The two Junior Agents stood in silence as Gibbs entered the room and took over the interrogation, Tony stepping aside to stand at his Boss's right shoulder.

"That was a… interesting sound… Tony just made." Ziva observed.

McGee pursed his lips hard together fighting the grin that was threatening to form.

"Very."

"Poor Tony." Ziva replied straight-faced.

The urge to grin grew stronger. "Y'know though, I have heard that sound before."

Ziva wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Really?"

"Yeah. Jethro has this plastic T-bone steak that if you step on it sounds just like Tony did…" McGee burbled…

The burbling grew, followed by a snort, then a snicker and a hiss. As both Agents fought to contain the imminent onset of an out and hysterical laughing fit, Ziva covered her mouth and rushed from the observation room into the hall, followed closely by McGee.

Both Agents let their hard contained laughter burst forth at the unexpected misfortune to have befallen their partner. As their chortling subsided, both agents sighed and wiped tears of laughter from their eyes. With a self-contented sigh, both looked up into the icy blue eyes of their Team Leader, and the painfully distant sea-green eyes of Tony.

oXoXoXo

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi Guys, sorry for the delay between chapters. I have been doing my civic duty and upholding the tradition of Twelve Angry Men over the past few days and haven't had the chance really to write, add to that a wicked head cold and I'm doing well! That aside, here is the next part – I hope you enjoy it as much as I am writing it. Reviews are always welcomed ~ Ozzyols**

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Ziva and McGee looked like two school kids who had been caught egging the principal's car. Which gave some small amount of satisfaction to Tony as he stood in the hallway next to his Boss.

Tony could feel the chill radiating from Gibbs. Their Leader allowed a certain amount of tomfoolery between his team, but whether it was the marine or father in him, he'd never tolerated bullying in any of its forms. And though Ziva and McGee laughing at Tony's misfortune wasn't bullying as such, Tony knew Gibbs… it was skating very close to the edge.

The axe was about to fall, and it was a fifty-fifty split on whose head. No matter what he felt personally about their actions, Tony did the first thing that came naturally to him. He protected his team.

Wheezing a squeaky half laugh, Tony stepped toward the younger Agents deliberately putting himself in between them and Gibbs. Turning back to face his Boss, Tony shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in a compliant gesture, a cheesy grin spreading across his face.

"Gotta admit Boss… Was pretty funny." He wheezed.

Gibbs eyes narrowed as he studied the face of his Senior Field Agent.

Tony just hoped that Gibbs would get his message and let him handle it. _C'mon Boss. Don't do something we'll all regret!_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared past DiNozzo at the two Agents nervously standing in the background. As if anticipating the move his second in charge shifted his weight drawing Gibbs' gaze back to him.

The smile on Tony's face was quintessential DiNozzo, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Twelve years of working shoulder to shoulder had let both men develop an unspoken understanding of each other's quirks, reading moods and attitudes with nothing more than a look. Gibbs inclined his head ever so slightly and studied every nuance of Tony's face looking for the 'tell' in DiNozzo's eyes. Finally finding the answer he was looking for, Gibbs twitched an eyebrow as much as to convey… _You sure_?

The tug of a self-deprecating grin and eyebrows receding into the hairline was all the response Tony gave.

Gibbs sighed, he wasn't particularly happy with DiNozzo's choice, but he did respect it… and at some level, kinda pitied McGee and Ziva. The revenge Tony would give them would far surpass anything he could deliver as a cruel and unusual punishment.

"Ho'kay" Gibbs shrugged as he turned and walked down the hall.

"Tony I'm sorry…" McGee's confessed even before Tony had a chance to turn around to face his partners. "You losing your voice isn't something we should've laughed at."

Tony pivoted on his heels to face his two co-workers. Scrunching his face, and waving his hand at them in a '_don't worry'_ gesture, he saw a hint of relief wash over the pair.

"Dieter… Holding…" Tony whispered the command as best he could manage at McGoo.

"Oh… Right…" Sidestepping Tony, McGee entered the integration room to see to their guest.

"I did not expect it to be this bad." Ziva observed. "Johansson was right about one thing though Tony. You should see someone. Would you like me to call Ducky up to look at it for you?"

Tony gritted his teeth. Her suggestion that he should see someone was delivered with the same cool collected attitude that she had demonstrated at Royal Oaks. Part of the problem dealing with a woman who had spent the better part of her life relying on the ability to remain composed was that you never seemed to truly know where you stood with her. Tony could no more now be certain of the sincerity of her words than he could've earlier in the day.

But she was right, as much as he loathed the idea, getting Ducky to check him over wouldn't hurt.

Following Ziva back into the squad room it appeared that someone else had beaten them all to the punch.

Ducky stood waiting at the edge of Tony's desk an assortment of items lying out ready for use.

"Ah Tony! Gibbs tells me you are under the weather?"

"Not Really."

It would have sounded a lot more convincing if it hadn't come out like an eighty-five year old two pack-a-day smoker was uttering it.

"Oh my." Ducky declared reaching down to slip on a pair of white latex gloves. "We'd better have a look at that." The ME pointed to a spot near Tony's desk. "Over here and we'll see what's going on."

Tony moved to stand behind his desk as Ducky retrieved a tongue depressor and flashlight.

"Now I'm sure you know the drill, open and say 'Ahhh'."

Complying with Ducky's wishes were easier said that done. The normal lyrical Aaah that Tony could pride himself comprised more of a wheeze and a throat-shaking rattle. From the corner of his eye Tony noticed Ziva bend down into the bottom draw of her cabinet and retrieve a small electronically keyed desk safe. Placing the metallic black case on her desk, the Former Mossad Officer punched in the required code. A brief electronic whine the only indication the device was ready to be opened.

"Gearing up for your trek into the American Dream?" Tony asked, as Ducky poked and prodded around his neck. He hated doctors… even ones that were close friends.

Ducky sighed in frustration. "Anthony this would be so much easier if you'd just keep still!"

Using the actions of his co-worker as an effective diversion, Tony watched as Ziva drew a familiar pair of sheathed knives from the lock box. "I didn't know you stopped using those?" He asked, steadfastly avoiding interacting with Ducky and his ministrations. A childish part of Tony seemed to want to work under the if-I-ignore-you-you'll-go-away principle.

"Ever since I became an official probationary Agent." Ziva replied.

The newest NCIS Agent closed her eyes and weighed up the two knives. It was an outstandingly provocative gesture. Tony could only imagine the number of young boys who would look at the view he was seeing and need a long cold shower. Reformed exotic Israeli assassin, eyes closed, chin raised slightly, hands assessing the feel of a good knife.

"They feel good?" Tony queried.

"Heavier than I remember." Ziva observed, the schnick of the blade flicking open at the mere touch of her hand.

Yep… it was enough to have the hardiest teen grabbing for the nearest large binder.

"Don't get used to it. I'd hate for you to completely relapse…" he half joked.

"You did not like me then?" A faintly challenging smile played on Ziva's lips.

That was her opinion of him? Tony was slightly taken aback. It was a good thing then that she didn't have her earwig on during the meeting with Haskell. She probably would have killed him where he sat if he'd heard his conversation with McGee.

"Yeaaow!" The sudden pressure of Ducky digging his fingers into his voice box took Tony by painful surprise.

"My apologies Anthony but I don't see anything serious, merely some inflammation from overuse. Nothing to be concerned about, however to prevent further damage I suggest you refrain from talking for the next twenty four hours."

Tony frowned at the ME. It couldn't be that bad could it. He was about to respond when a buoyant somewhat mocking laugh burst from Ziva's lips that Tony immediately took umbrage to.

"I understand it won't be easy…"

"But we certainly look forward to seeing you try."

Part of Tony knew that Ziva was simply rising to Ducky's well-baited hook and was teasing her partner. It took a lot of self-restraint not to snap back a one liner. That ever present little voice in his head who badly wanted Tony to make a career change into stand up comedy whispered at him to put Ziva in her place, but for the second time that day another voice, one Tony was intimately familiar with, yet tried to ignore started a gentle whisper of it's own. _Perhaps she's right? Perhaps you should…_ the voice was distracted by the dulcet tones of Ducky.

"Let's hope there are no movie references that require your edification, I'd hate for your ego to write a cheque your body can't cash."

Tony glared at Ducky. That was dirty pool – talk about kicking a guy when he was down.

Across the pen Ziva snapped her fingers.

"Oh I know that one… that's… Gone With the Wind! Right?"

Tony vigorously shook his head, suspecting he was doing a passable impersonation of Secretariat in the process. It was bad enough that Ducky would stoop so low as to set up a movie reference like that… but to then have Ziva mangle it the opportunity that badly was quite frankly an offense against man and the movie gods!

"Don't do it DiNozzo." Gibbs commented walking into the bullpen. How did do that, know just the right time to waltz in? "Willpower." Tony opened and closed his mouth, fighting his personality's natural instincts. "Ziva?" The Team Leader tossed a set of keys to the young woman.

"Ready Gibbs"

In the end it was never Tony's willpower that was in question. It was his won't-power. "Top Gun!" he barked unable to restraint the celluloid massacre anymore.

A firm tap on Tony's jaw drew his eye line back from Ziva to Ducky who raised his pointer finger to his lips. "Shhhhhhh".

It was going to be a long twenty four hours…

oXo

It had been over four hours since Gibbs and Ziva had left for the meet, leaving Tony and McGee to man the fort. Tony's medically mandated silence was proving to be source of great amusement for the Probinator. As Tony worked through a pile of case notes trying to find anything that would show a link between Gator and the Royal Woods crowd, McGee seemed to be trying his upmost to goad Tony into talking. So far there had been at least five attempts. Tony had resorted to some fairly exotic methods to get his answer across ranging for a quasi game of charades to simply pelting McGee with an eraser after he had made a profoundly dumb suggestion.

But he was yet to speak – DiNozzo 5, McTryhard 0.

Beside him Tony's phone rang. Instinctively Tony's handpicked up the receiver. "Spec..l Agent An..ny ..Nozzo."

"Booyah!"

McGee's jubilant call came in startling surround sound for the Senior Agent as he registered from both across the pen and through the receiver in his hand.

"Funny Probie… very funny." Tony hissed as he returned the receiver to the cradle and glared at his co-worker.

"I thought so."

Tony ignored McGee and returned to his work.

"Oh c'mon Tony! I only did the sort of thing you would've done if the situations were reversed!"

Tony hated to admit it… but McGee was probably right about that. Doing that sort of stunt would be something he would likely try on an ailing McGee. Scowling at his co-worker more out of habit than anger, Tony stood from his chair and walked off towards the back elevator.

"Where you going?" Tim queried.

Tony pointed down and mouthed the word 'Abby'

"Gotcha." McGee replied turning back to his monitor.

As the elevator descended to the forensics lab level Tony took the privacy as a chance to personally assess how bad his voice really was.

Opening his mouth, Tony stated. "Hi, I'm Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service." Or… at least that's what he intended to say. When the statement came out more like a sound effect from a Tim Burton film, Tony finally had to admit that Ducky was right. His voice was well and truly cactus.

Exiting the elevator and crossing the hall to Abby's lab, Tony suddenly had a stark realisation that his usual bellow to get her attention probably wasn't going to cut the mustard this time. He could always just walk up and tap her on the shoulder, but the last time he'd done that he'd nearly got a face full of Abby's home made mace. It hadn't bothered him, in fact he was secretly glad she was taking the precaution – let's face it, Abby's run of luck with people visiting her lab had been sketchy at best, down right dangerous at worst.

Tony decided that the best course of action would be to appeal to her primal gothic-esqueness and her love of music with a decent beat. Drumming his hands on the door jam would provide enough volume and distraction to stop Abby from wigging out entirely if he suddenly appeared.

"Tony!" Abby grinned turning around at the sound of the drum roll. "Hey! How you feeling?"

Tony half squeaked and tilted his hand from side to side. Opening his mouth to speak, Abby shook her head vigorously.

"Don't you dare Mister! Strict doctors orders… no talking!"

Tony blinked. He was always caught by surprise at how fast the scuttlebutt managed to flick around the office.

In front of him, Abby was frowning. "So me asking you how you are just now was probably bad." The frown turned into thoughtful nod as Abby pondered her friend predicament. "We have to fix that… now!"

Pivoting 180 degrees on her heels Abby looked at her workstation, the natural instinct was to reach for a pen a paper before she remembered what Tony's handwriting could get like. A cryptographer specialising in the scribbling's of an Ancient Egyptian Apothecary would have had difficulty in working out what he was trying to say some of the time.

Changing the direction of her search Abby's hand came down over the iPad she had procured the year before. Flicking effortlessly through the apps until she found the note pad, Abby handed the cherry red device over to her friend.

"Here, use this. Now… how are you feeling?"

_Like a Buster Keaton movie!_ Tony typed with surprising speed given the fact he was only using the index finger of his right hand.

"Wow you do that really well Tony. Fastest finger in the west!" Abby was genuinely impressed.

Tony grinned before glancing down at the device once more, his finger flickering across the touchpad. With a patently DiNozzo flourish and megawatt smile Tony turned the iPad around.

_Got to keep an itchy trigger finger in shape some how Abs!_

Tony waggled his right index towards Abby's nose and regretted it almost instantly. He might have a lightning fast index, but compared to the lightning fast, caffeine boosted reflexes of their forensic scientist; he was toast.

Tony yelped involuntarily as Abby gripped the offending digit and all but dragged him over to the far side of the lab where several beakers and dishes were laid out.

"Seeing Director Vance probably won't give you an iPad as your own personal etch-a-sketch Tony, we need to do something about that throat.

Tony watched in amusement as he rubbed his tender finger as Abby began adding items to one of the beakers that seemed to already contain a clear fluid. Stirring the concoction vigorously with a glass rod, Abby turned around and held it out for Tony to take.

"Here, try this. Granny's old sore throat cure. Works like so amazingly well. I never had a sore throat as a kid."

_What's in it_ Tony tapped out turning the iPad for Abby to see, faintly suspicious of the foamy red liquid contained within the beaker.

"Nothing special. Just some capsaicin, acetic acid and sodium hydrogen carbonate."

Tony paused; sodium hydrogen carbonate to a non-scientist was baking soda he knew that much. So the chances that the other two items were also foodstuffs were a pretty reasonable assumption. Now he just had to find out what they where. It once again reminded Tony that asking Abby for a recipe could be an art in itself.

_In Tony-ish Abs_

Abby smiled. "It baking soda, apple cider vinegar and cayenne pepper in water. Granny swore by it – not that Granny ever swore, unless it was at Uncle Horace when he was chasing the chickens or my cousin when he was…"

_ABS!_ Tony waved the tablet in front of his friend.

"What? Oh, sorry. Anyway, you mix them up and you gargle then swallow the mix. Makes your throat feel a whole lot better real quick." The look on Abby's face was one of pure innocence. In fact, it was even more innocent than usual… if that was humanly possible. Tony had seen the same look on countless kids he'd met during his law enforcement days. It was the expression of someone hoping you wouldn't realise that there was another shoe waiting to drop.

Tony arched a suspicious eyebrow. _C'mon Abs, what aren't you telling me? _He tapped

"Well, there was kinda one other thing Granny did when she made this." Tony's gestured for her to continue. "See… Granny'd always put a roll of toilet paper in a plastic bag in the freezer at the same time."

Tony blinked, now he was really confused. Did she use is as a cold compress or something?

"Then when the gargle had a chance to work it's magic she'd take the roll out of the freezer before she…" Abby let the sentence hanging looking intensely at Tony, willing him to get the imagery.

It didn't take him long.

There was something sweet about the look of shock then imagined pain as Tony put two and two together for the inevitable end result.

_Are you sure?_

Abby could almost imagine how that would have sounded if Tony had been able to speak. Deliberately misinterpreting the intent behind the words on the screen Abby nodded. "Oh totally! This is the best sore throat cure out there – Here. Try it?"

As her hand bearing the beaker moved forward towards him, Tony took an involuntary step backward. Pinning a grin to his face frantically hoping it would hide the grimace that wanted to take its place, Tony smiled, trying to figure out exactly how he was going to tell Abby no without hurting her feelings.

A sudden vibration at his hip saved him the effort. Hastily grabbing his phone from its holder Tony read the message _Ziva and Gibbs are back_. Turning the face of the phone around for Abby's benefit Tony mouthed _Gotta Go_ before leaning over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek and beating a hasty retreat out of the lab. For once, God bless McGeek. Tony didn't know which was the greater gift? The opportunity to gracefully back down from the cough syrup from hell or the fact McGee SMS'd the message rather than making Tony try and answer his phone.

Tony had managed to get about three steps out the door when the sound of Abby calling his name stopped him in his tracks. Damn! He thought he had dodged that bullet.

"It's called an iPad for a reason DiNozzo! As in I… as in mine… as in not yours!"

Looking down, it suddenly dawned on Tony that he was still holding Abby's iPad. Grimacing, Tony turned and stuck his head back through the door. Abby was standing in a, quite frankly, kinda sexy pose, all her weight on her right leg, a rapid staccato being tapped out with her left leather boot clad foot. A mock scowl and pursed lips adorning her face, her arms cross over the top of her lab coat with just enough tartan skirt peaking out the front to be interesting.

Sidling up to her Tony placed the pad in her hand and gave her another peck on the cheek for good measure.

The frown instantly turned upside down and was replaced by one hundred percent Abby grin. "Go on you goofball!" Placing her hands on his shoulders Abby turned Tony towards the door and gave him a light shove. "Gibb's needs you!"

oXo

Tony found himself at a crossroads. The right thing to do was to go straight back to the squad room. The sensible thing to do was make a pit stop first. Odds were that if he went straight back to his desk, Ziva would have information that would probably needed to be acted on almost immediately. However, given the large amounts of liquid Tony had recently ingested, a side trip to the bathroom before re-entering the fray was probably a better idea.

It was always better to get things out of the way when nature started to call, rather than getting caught short when it inevitably screamed at you!

Apparently the mere thought process was enough to activate that seemingly primal genome in the human body that brought the idea from a consideration to an immediate imperative in more ways than one. A sudden griping in the pit of Tony's stomach 'clenched' the deal.

Wheeling around to the right, Tony made a moderately hastily beeline for the men's-room.

Confined safely in the walls of the cubicle Tony's mind turned to things of an esoteric nature. It was amazing what mighty thoughts came to a person when they were ensconced in the smallest room in the house as the phrase went. How many great men came up with their ideas while likewise engaged? When the door to the rest room opened, Tony smiled wryly. How many ideas were scuttled by an inappropriate interruption too?

"No… listen to what I am saying. I'm not saying fifteen hundred tomorrow. I've got it down for fifteen hundred this afternoon." A vaguely familiar voice floated over the door.

"Really? That soon? I would've thought he'd be able to hold out for longer than that." Another voice added.

The sound of zippers being opened told Tony all he needed to know about where the two men were standing.

The slight squeak of the bathroom door being opened heralded the arrival of someone new.

"If you want in though, you're gonna need to get the money to Rehnquist post haste." The first voice said.

Sitting there, listening off hand to the conversation, Tony had finally been able to place the voices. Alan Keffler and Mike Daniels. Daniels was a new transfer and Keffler worked in procurement.

"Hey Alan." McGee's unmistakeable voice added to the conversation greeting the other Agent. "Whatcha guys talking about?"

"Oh Hey Tim. Nothing really. Just a sweep that's doin the rounds."

"Oh… for Emma in human resources? I heard she's due in about five weeks."

"Nah, Claire's already got some chick thing going for that. This sweep's how long DiNozzo will last."

The sound of his name caught Tony off guard.

"Last how?" Tim asked.

"Y'know, before he breaks Dr Mallards no talking rule. I'm in for fifteen hundred this afternoon. Daniels think's I'm nuts."

"Oh C'mon Alan. DiNozzo's got more gumption than that, He'll last at least until what… eighteen hundred…" A repressed snort burst from Mike Daniels mouth.

"Guys! Is that really appropriate? I mean, he's lost his voice." McGee admonished his work mates.

Tony felt a small touch of pride come over him as McGee stood up for him.

But there were expressions about Pride and what usually came after it. So when Daniels spoke next, Tony was suddenly glad to be sitting down.

"C'mon McGee! You were the one who bet that DiNozzo wouldn't last the twenty-four in the first place – we just took it to the next logical conclusion and decided to have a chance to make some money on it."

Tony couldn't be sure of what was said next as the sound of the faucet running and someone entering the cubicle next to his obliterated the sound, and frankly, he wasn't sure he cared to.

Sitting in the stall, Tony took the time he needed to collect his thoughts before exiting. Staring at his reflection in the mirror Tony reflected on how a day could deteriorate so quickly. And it was only Monday, he still had the rest of the week to contend with.

He silently laughed at himself. Where most people had only that old angel and devil on your shoulder scenario to contend with; he seemed to be destined to run through life with a frickin Greek chorus at his back.

On one level you had Tony DiNozzo, class clown, cut-up and general joker who appreciated the twisted humour of a sweepstake like that. On the other, you had Anthony DiNozzo, Senior Field Agent who had earned his stripes and deserved better than that. You had Tony, the youth trying to be heard but never really succeeding, and you had Tony the brash cop opening his mouth at every opportunity. You had the logical Tony who knew it was all crap and that he should ignore it, but then you also had that annoying tiny little voice of self-doubt lurking in the recesses of the mind whispering things you didn't want to hear or admit to yourself.

Yep! Euripides would have had a field day with him.

Washing his hands and throwing water over his face, Tony stared at himself. _Suck it up DiNozzo. The personal stuff is all just that, personal_. Right now, what was important wasn't whether some jackass in the office won a prize, or who might have instigated it. It was the fact that somewhere in middle suburbia a group of Stepford Whacko's were planning something that made a sore throat look as petty as it sounded.

With any luck Ziva would have good evidence that they could use against Haskell and his cronies. Shaking the nagging feeling from himself like an otter fresh out of a lake, Tony opened the door and stepped back into the squad room. His game face was set, and _all_ bets were off.

oXoXoXo

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><p><strong>AN People have noted that this is not your typical McGee/David slap down version of "Dead Air". While I am certain that Tony will enact his own revenge, I am more interested in the power of perception – what we believe versus what may be true… I hope you will please stick with me. It will come clear, I promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys. Yes it's been a long time between posts, but real life has an annoying habit of wanting to interrupt a good fantasy! Like a lot of people I guess, I was staggered and jazzed that the writers are starting to explore a new side of Tony – that last scene in Restless was outstanding! Anyhoo… here is the latest chapter. You support of this story has been great so far – and I look forward to continuing the journey with you! ~Ozzyols**

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Tony's dreams of going home to put his feet up and try and obey Ducky's commands to rest were pretty much sunk the moment he had exited the bathroom.

The information that Ziva had managed to glean from her afternoon with the socialite sociopaths had not only revealed the location of Johansson's bomb, but the rather disturbing number of members of the MAH in the gated community.

Though their methods were more than a little questionable, Tony did understand their cause at the heart of it, and even to a degree could go along with the principles. He'd been a Cop for nearly half his life, he'd seen carnage on his watch, he'd seen young innocent lives wasted for nothing. He'd stood by and watched almost helplessly as year after year communities were destroyed and wondered why no one did a damn thing about it. Living and working in DC had jaded his view even more. It was hard to be in a company town and not see the pork barrelling that went on every day. A hammer that cost $13.95 in Walmart if he wanted to buy it would cost a requisitioning officer in the Navy upward of fifty bucks.

It wasn't about politics. As far as Tony was concerned, they all sucked equally. It was about the insane need some people seemed to have over making a buck for themselves at the expense of others.

Those who served their country deserved the best – Tony could not and would not ever deny that. It was just the accountability of those holding the purse strings that needed a swift kick in the pants. Yes, Tony could see how a group like MAH could be created. Especially for someone like Haskell. His life was turned upside down by a random punk leaving him feeling helpless and abandoned by the powers that be and now he was seeking to change the status quo, he was going about it the wrong way, but at least Tony understood _why_ he was doing it.

Driving back to the estate, Tony listened as his three team mates planned their next move.

"The bomb is currently located in the freezer in Haskell's yard." Ziva was saying. "There are three access points. A west facing external door to the yard, the internal connection to the main body of the house and the garage door itself."

"What's security like?" McGee asked.

"Minimal. It appears that the owners in Royal Woods are happy with their security patrols. I saw nothing in the way of a individual system at the house."

"That'll make things easier" McGee murmured.

"Nothing easy bout it McGee, still got a bomb to deal with." Gibbs laconically replied

Tony grinned. He always marvelled at Gibbs ability to seemingly underplay issues that would make other people pale.

"Ziva, I don't want the bomb squad within a block of the gates when we get there. We don't want to tip em off." Gibbs directed the newest NCIS Agent.

From over his shoulder, Tony saw Ziva reach for her cell and start dialling the bomb squad.

"McGee. You'll stay here and liaise with the local LEO's. They should have a list of persons of interest by now. Fornell'll probably be on scene and might try and muscle in… do your best."

"Gotcha Boss." McGee nodded as the car screeched around a corner, approaching the gated community at speed.

"Gibbs, I have confirmed with the squad leader. He said he will wait at the corner of Victory and Third. He'll send a liaison up to meet us at the gate." Ziva relayed.

Gibbs nodded, his eyes never leaving the darkened roadway. "When we get there Tony, you and Ziva'll be with me."

A few minutes later the dark sedan pulled up to the curb outside the high pseudo gothic walls that stood as the demarcation line between the real world and the fairy-tale safety of Royal Woods. Without command, McGee slipped silently out the rear door of the car and loped over towards the gatehouse. Through the windshield the other three Agents watched as McGee engaged the guard in some rather animated conversation. It was apparent from his body language that the guard was not particularly pleased with the idea of letting people without access into the gated community at this time of night.

A glance over his shoulder from McGee was all the indication Gibbs needed. Rolling the car forward he pulled up under the security light illuminating the gate. Lowering his window, Gibbs looked at McGee.

"Problems McGee?"

McGee pursed his lips in frustration. "He's not budging Boss. Says without a pass, approval or invitation he won't let us pass."

"You show him your pass." It wasn't a question.

Tony lowered his head slightly to catch sight of the guard hovering the background. Recognizing the man from earlier in the day Tony drew in a breath and hoped for the best. "Hey Floyd." His voice sounded more like air deflating from a bike tyre than a human conversation, but it was sufficiently loud to get the attention of the man.

Ducking down himself Floyd looked past Gibbs at the grinning Tony.

"Hey, Mista De-no-zo. What-choo doin here this time of night? Youse lookin at what da place looks like after dark?"

"Something like that. Can you open the gate?" Tony's throat felt like it was on fire but he plastered a ingratiating smile onto his face, "didn't Stephanie tell you I was bringing some friends by?" he lied easily dropping the name of the realtor he'd used earlier in the day.

"Nah, she didn't but, then again, I'm only the guard ain't I" The portly man gave a chuckle, slapping McGee on the shoulder. "Youse coulda said youse was meetin Mr De-no-zo to look at the house y'know." Floyd reached into his pocket and drew out a black remote. Fingering the first button, the mechanical whirr of the gate drawing back sprang to life. "Have good night, just hit the red exit button on da way out like youse did last time." Floyd metaphorically doffed his cap with the remote and wandered back towards the little guardhouse tucked behind the wall.

As Gibbs drove into the estate proper, Tony allowed himself a small smile at the expression of McGoo's face as they left him standing at the gate.

"Good job DiNozzo." Gibbs commented. "You got a problem David?"

Tony shot a look over his shoulder just in time to see Ziva's mouth snap shut. Her eyes met his in the strobing light of the street lamps.

"I am just very impressed with Tony's skills Gibbs." Ziva replied blandly. "I am curious how you knew him though?" she asked.

Ziva's unexpected question suddenly put Tony in a delicate position. If he answered honestly any illusion that he had over whether McGee and Ziva had just been joking about actually turning him off earlier in the day would be set in concrete. If they really had been listening after all they would know that Tony and Floyd had met about halfway through his sweep of Royal Woods. Was he really ready to accept whatever outcome it proved? Also, Gibbs wasn't a fool. Tony had deflected their Boss once already today; he didn't know if Gibbs was going to accept another noble gesture on Tony's behalf. Not that he could really do anything about it. Until Tony said something it was pretty much all supposition. But that didn't mean that given the opportunity Gibbs wouldn't extract retribution on his own with or without all the facts.

Tony breathed a sigh of relief when he saw they had nearly arrived at Arthur Haskell's address.

"Here." He squeaked, pointing to the long drive leading up to the house unclipping his seatbelt.

The car pulled smoothly to a halt and the three agents alighted from the car.

"You two take the west door to the garage." Gibbs directed quietly before jogging off towards the front door.

Skirting the exterior of the house and accessing the back yard, Ziva led Tony silently up to the door she remembered exiting from earlier that afternoon.

"In place Gibbs" Ziva whispered into her sleeve.

"Go!" came the command over the earwig.

Leaning back, Tony booted the door with all his might. Despite bracing himself for the impact, a shiver of energy reverberated up his leg and through his hip into his spine. A long dry summer had provided an unexpected benefit. Tony had been expecting a fair amount of resistance from an exterior door to a house, but low humidity and hot conditions had sought only to dry the timber of the door out more than was usually expected. The result was more that Tony could have hoped for. The door jam splintered neatly around the lock allowing the door itself to spring back into the garage.

"Federal Agents, Federal Agents." Ziva announced forcefully as she moved passed Tony into the forward position, feeling for a light switch in the process. Scanning the empty garage space, both Agents spotted supine form of Arthur Haskell on the concrete floor at the same time. "GIBBS! Back here!" Ziva shouted.

Leaving Ziva to tackle the locked freezer chest, Tony checked the condition of their would be terrorist. Kneeling down next to the man, Tony could see immediately that someone had done a number on him. Deftly feeling for a pulse, Tony was relieved to find it beating strong and steady.

"He's still breathing" Tony rasped as Gibbs moved over next to him.

"Gibbs…" Both men turned at the sombre tone of Ziva's voice. From the expression on her face, Tony had a fair idea what was going to come out of her mouth next. "The bomb is missing." She confirmed. Damn he hated it when he was right!

Before any of them could react further, the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house. "Daddy, I'm home." A girls voice called. Through the arch of the door leading back into the house, Tony saw a petite young teenager appear. "Daddy?" The pitch of her voice rose slightly as she spotted her Father sprawled on the concrete. "Daddy?" Another pitch change as the realisation of what she was seeing set in. Like any family member seeing someone they loved injured, the girls first reaction was to race to her Fathers side.

Watching Gibbs step in to intercept her before she could get to her Father tugged at Tony. "Federal Agents… Stop." Gibbs caught the girl up in a hug arresting her forward movement.

"Homygod! What happened." The girl almost wailed, struggling against Gibbs arms. "Daddy?"

Tony felt the muscles along his jaw ripple. The Agent in him knew why Gibbs was restraining the girl. They hadn't had time to assess her Father's condition and they couldn't risk further injury to him, or even her. But that didn't stop Tony feeling a like a heel over the fact they couldn't let a worried girl see her Dad.

Still holding the now shaking girl in his arms, Gibbs turned towards Ziva. "Call McGee. Bring 'em in. Then, I need you here."

The attack on Haskell, the missing bomb and the unexpected arrival of Haskell's daughter unnecessarily complicated what had initially set out to be a very simple task.

Gibbs could feel Haskell's daughter start to shiver under his embrace. The initial surprise was giving way to shock; her young body was starting to release a flood of epinephrine through her system, her innocent blue eyes hazing over. Keeping her here at the crime scene longer than was absolutely necessary wasn't an option. Gibbs glanced over to Tony who had knelt next to the fallen man. The Senior Field Agent had manoeuvred Haskell into the recovery position and was checking the man for any signs of obvious breaks or obstructions. A slight moan escaped the unconscious form when Tony touched his ribs.

"What are you doing to him! Leave him alone" Gibbs's charge wailed renewing her struggle against the Team Leader thumping ineffectively against the former Marines chest. "You're hurting him!" she screamed at Tony.

Gibbs clutched the girl tighter. "No he's not. He's trying to make him more comfortable."

Conflicted anger flashed in her eyes. Gibbs could almost see the emotions warring within her.

"Gibbs, they are on their way. EMT's should be here in approximately ten minutes. The bomb squad have begun sweeping the area." Ziva announced brusquely

"Bomb squad?" Arthur Haskell's daughter squeaked.

"Ziva." A pointed look from Gibbs to the former Mossad Officer was all the instruction Ziva needed.

"It is Kristin isn't it?" Ziva asked moving over next to the girl.

Kirstin's eyes narrowed as Ziva approached. "You? You had a meeting with my Dad?"

"Yes, that is correct, I did. You met me this afternoon."

"Is this your fault?" there was no hiding the accusation in the girl's voice.

Ziva's features softened. "No. This was not our doing." Ziva placed a gentle hand on the girls elbow. "My name is NCIS Agent Ziva David. I met your Father this afternoon as part of an ongoing investigation." The girl was clearly up set and had fixated her gaze on the prone form of her Father. Stepping deliberately into the path of that view, Ziva met the disconnected grey-eyed stare with one of her own, a small smile tugging at the edge of her mouth when the girl flinched first. Disconnection was reformed as confusion and offered Ziva the opportunity she needed. "Agent Gibbs and DiNozzo need to work here. How about we go inside, yes?" Steering the more compliant girl away from Gibbs grasp, Ziva led her up the step back into the main body of the house.

Gibbs breathed a little easier as Ziva and Kristen disappeared from view. "How's he doin' DiNozzo?" He asked.

"Noh.. Aahd"

Gibbs read that to mean 'not bad', noting the wince Tony attempted to hide when he spoke. His Senior Field Agents voice was getting worse rather than better, despite his so far concerted efforts to remain silent. Despite the warmth of the day, there was still a decided bite to the evening air. He watched as Tony suddenly turned away and coughed heavily and unpleasant rattle seemingly echoing around the empty garage space.

A choice needed to be made, and soon, and it was most likely going to be a choice that would get a lot of resistance from DiNozzo.

Gibbs wasn't blind to Tony's interesting take on illness and injury. Stub his toe and Tony could give you an Oscar winning performance of pain and suffering. Give him a real injury or illness, and the stonewalling you faced would make the Rockies look feeble.

A second bout of coughing sealed the decision.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked. "When the EMT's and Bomb Squad get her, I don't want Haskell's daughter on scene," he tossed the keys to the agency sedan towards Tony. "Go get her and Ziva and take them back to the Navy Yard and stay with the daughter until someone from Child Services can get there. Tell Ziva to bring the car straight back." Tony opened his mouth to protest only to be stared down. "When someone from DCS get there, go home! Don't want to see you back in the office until tomorrow." Gibbs made sure he put enough emphasis behind the statement. Tony would use any excuse to try and wiggle out of the orders.

Tony's eyebrows knitted together as he processed the information.

"Boss?" McGee's voice interrupted. Both Team Leader and Senior Agent turned towards the sound of their co-workers call. "Local LEO's have started searching the surrounding areas with members of the Bomb Squad. FBI is a no show at the moment, but a missing bomb'll probably mean they'll be here shortly."

Gibbs nodded. "Good. McGee. Take over here from Tony." Gibbs turned to Tony. "You still here DiNozzo?"

Tony was certain he'd misheard something. Had Gibbs really just dismissed him in the middle of a crime scene? The cool flat stare that his Boss was giving him seemed to say everything. He was… he was being dismissed. All because he had a crappy throat? Tony opened his mouth to argue only to close it as equally fast when Gibbs just glared at him. Unsure if the lump at the back of his throat was from the inflammation of his oesophagus or from the kick in the pants he'd just received from his Boss, Tony turned and headed into the house.

He found Ziva and Kristen sitting quietly at the kitchen table. A glass of water sat untouched between the young girls hands, the condensation of the cold drink trickled down the outsides of the glass onto the high gloss wood of the kitchen table. Tony absently thought that if it wasn't wiped up soon it would leave a watermark.

Ziva turned at the sound of Tony's approaching footsteps. "Do you need me Tony?" she asked.

Solemnly Tony shook his head. Wiggling his index finger towards the two women to indicate he was talking about them then turning the finger on himself and holding up the key fob, he mouthed _Navy Yard_.

Ziva pursed her lips and then nodded before turning back to the girl. "Kristen, we need you to come back to the NCIS Head Quarters."

The strawberry blonde haired girl frowned. "Why?" suspicion laced her question.

"We need you to answer some questions for us, and we need to make sure you are looked after until your Father is better."

"I'm not going anywhere." The teen stated.

Tony and Ziva shared a glance. "The EMT's are going to be arriving shortly to take your Father to hospital. You can not stay here."

"Well, I'll go and stay with my friends!" Kristen replied pugnaciously.

"That is not possible Kristen, we need you to come with us." Ziva said, rising to her feet, her words firm and unequivocal.

Tony watched as the teenaged girl ran her options through her head. She was clearly confused and rightly upset. She'd walked into her home, a home that had been invaded by unknown people to find her father injured on the concrete floor of their garage. For all that they were trying to help her, from her point of view NCIS was being far from it and now they were demanding she went with them. Too many memories from homicides in Tony's past came flooding back in quick succession. He'd witnessed this type of scene far too many times to count on his fingers and toes – distressed family members being bounced about to make room for an ongoing investigation.

And for Kristen Haskell this was twice as distressing, first she witnesses her mothers murder by a drug crazed gun-man, and now this.

Valiantly trying to hold back the welling tears in her eyes, Kristen finally nodded once and stood up from the chair and walked towards the front door. Tony noticed the slight flinch as she passed the open door into the garage but did not look in. Tony lengthened his stride to reach the front door before her and open it stepping out onto the porch. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself and lowering her head, Kristen and Ziva walked down the steps towards the drive leading to the car. Halfway to their intended destination, the EMT wagon passed them heading up the drive towards the house, the crunch of the gravel drive and the lack of sirens making the scene all that more alien. Walking behind Ziva and Kristen, Tony noted as the young girl deliberately turned her face away from the ethereal glow of the Ambulance lights.

As they climbed into the sedan and Tony pulled away heading back out of Royal Woods towards DC, a random thought passed through his head. This was no way for a seventeen-year-old girl to be spending her Monday night.

oXoXoXo

Ziva had escorted Kristen into one of the interview rooms while she made the call to child services. There was very little that Tony could do.

Setting aside the obvious impediment to communication with Kristen, because she was a minor and female Agency rules stipulated that a female officer had to be present at all times leaving Tony at a loose end.

Restless and unable to settle at his desk Tony decided to try his luck and see if Ducky or Abby were still in the building. Exiting the elevator at the forensics level the thrum of a base-note was all the indication he needed to know the answer to at least one of his questions.

Expecting a repeat performance of his made bongo skills from earlier in the day, Tony approached the door jam to the lab only to have Abby turn at that precise moment towards the door.

"Tony!" She grinned. "Back already? Whatcha got for me?"

Tony held his hands out and shook his head.

"Nothing? What the scene was a bust?"

Tony only had time to grimace and open his mouth to respond before once again the scarlet iPad was thrust into his hands.

Quickly he tapped out a note explaining what had happened at Royal Woods.

"So what are you doing back here?" Abby queried scrunching her face a little. Tony made a mental note to tell her how cute she looked when she did that after his voice returned.

_Don't know Abs. Gibbs sent me back._

"Gibbs sent you back? What for?"

Tony shrugged his shoulders. _You guess is as good as mine_. He paused in thought. _To go home I think_.

"Go home? In the middle of the case? Abby was confused. Short of an Agent being super dumb and blowing it big time, the only other explanation for Gibbs sending someone away from an active scene was if they were really ill. A horrible thought crossed the scientist mind.

Lunging out Abby grabbed at Tony's head pulling it towards her. Placing her hand on his forehead Abby tried to feel for a fever.

"Abby!" Tony squeaked in surprise overriding the iPad in his hands.

"No, doesn't feel hot… but maybe I'm too hot blooded? My doctor is always telling me I'm hotter than the average patient… perhaps I can't use myself to tell if someone has a fever? Or perhaps I have one too and I can't tell? Or maybe I've been working too much and my hands are hot, those lights can get pretty intense. Should I get Ducky? I'll get Ducky!"

Abby's hands worked frantically as she placed them over various parts of Tony's face in her valiant effort to see if he had a fever. As always the pretty young Goth's mind was working a mile a minute, in a desperate attempt to keep up with her verbalisations. Tony loved this side of Abby. Loving… caring… heartfelt… and just a little bit nutty.

Gently setting the iPad down as Abby continued her fussing, Tony finally took her wrists in his hands.

"Abs, I'm fine." He spoke each word slowly to reduce as much irritation as possible, and to drive home his point as he released her wrists

"No you're not Tony. Gibbs wouldn't send you home unless something was wrong or you did something really dumb!" She drew in a sharp breath her hands flying to her mouth. "You didn't do anything stupid did you?"

Tony rolled his eyes and picked up the iPad. _No more than usual_.

"Tony?" The Senior Field Agent turned to see Ziva standing in the doorway behind him. "Child Protective Services have arrived, they are taking Kerstin to a placement home overnight until we know what is happening with her Father. I have spoken to Gibbs."

_He wants us back at the house?_ Tony typed, hoping circumstances may have changed. He held the device up for Ziva to see.

Ziva absently scratched her ear as she read the typed text. "He wants me back at the scene, they are about to wrap up and they need the car. His exact words to you were 'tell DiNozzo if he's still there when I get back, the depth of the creek he'll be up will require scuba gear to find the bottom!'" If Tony hadn't suspected that Gibbs would be good to every word, he might have found Ziva's attempts to emulate her boss's mannerisms funny.

Unfortunately Tony had no doubt that Gibbs would kick his butt around the beltway if he even entertained the idea of hanging around until they got back.

Tony felt a comforting pressure around his upper arm, and turned his head to see Abby had wrapped herself around it and placed her head on his shoulder.

"Well. I should go." Ziva said, her eyes softening slightly as she turned to leave. "I will see you in the morning. I hope you feel better Tony."

As the door to the elevator shut announcing Ziva's exit, Tony let out a sigh he hadn't been aware he was holding in. Gibbs' dismissal from the scene still chewed at DiNozzo. He was wracking his brains trying to figure out exactly why Gibbs had benched him, couple this with the fiasco at Royal Woods this morning and Tony suddenly felt all of his forty plus years. He was suddenly tired. Tired of the whole ball of wax.

He felt Abby's gentle presence warm on his back where her right hand now lay. "You sure you're okay Tony?" Her tone as soft as the touch of her hand. "You've not had a good day have you?"

Trust Abby to zone in on things better left unsaid. _I've had better_. He typed.

"Are you sure you don't need Ducky?"

Tony kissed her forehead. _The Duckman has told me what I need to do… and I'm doing it_. He cleared the screen before typing the next line. _I'll be fine tomorrow, you'll see_.

"You'd better be Mister, or you'll be answering to me!" Abby grinned.

Tony returned the grin. Tapping a message quickly into the screen, Tony turned it towards his friend hoping to deflect the conversation. _I gotta get me one of these_.

He handed the device back to Abby and sauntered casually out the door.

Abby stood fixated on the spot where Tony had last been. It was hard not to notice the tension in the air between Ziva and Tony. The light-hearted banter, the easy smile couldn't completely hide the tension in her friend's body language. Something was going on, and like a good forensic scientist Abby knew sifting through the evidence would be the key to untangling what was eating at the heart of Team Gibbs!

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi Guys – yes I know I have been off the radar for more than the usual time, and I thank all the people who are sticking with the story. This "Chapter" is little more than a place holder and it gives me a chance to explain the lack of updates… **

**That annoying thing called Real Life has been throwing me a few curve balls lately, including being singled out to train 8 new staff entirely on my own over the next three months… **

**and the added disadvantage that I was involved in a car accident a week or so ago… everything is fine, I wasn't injured, but I was shaken up a bit and my car… well that's another story! Anyway – I just wanted to post something to prove I am still around! I promise more is coming from this story and for those following _Shadows__of__the__Pas_t too! Cheers Yols**

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><p>oXoXoXo<p>

Tony did not sleep well.

Setting aside the fact that his throat felt like he'd swallowed a glass-recycling factory closely followed by a lemon juice chaser, Tony had spent most of the night tossing and turning. That pain was momentary, it was going to pass. What had kept him awake was his brain… again…

Tony had worked out that the most destructive force known to man could be the human brain. It was capable of amazing feats of cruelty and self-destruction and tonight his seemed hell bent on completely screwing him over!

Tony had tried all the usual tricks for getting it to settle down. He'd gone for a run; he'd watched his favourite DVD's; he'd even thought of trying some meditation, except that sitting still was almost a physical impossibility.

So instead he found himself lying flat on his back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling letting the Disneyland size hamster wheel in his mind chew over and over the events of the day.

He had to believe that Ziva and McGee had been joking in the car at Royal Woods. Did he honestly believe that either of them would be as vicious to make a comment like that and actually mean it?

It had to be a joke… But still…

How many times had Gibbs shut him down with a glare? How many times had he himself said "Shutting up Boss"? Or witnessed the roll of another Agents eyes as Tony said something? Was he really that much of a pain in the ass?

He shook his head at the preposterousness of the thoughts. _Get__ it __together __DiNozzo!_ He snorted. _You__'__ll __be __looking__ for __monsters __under __your __bed__ next!_ Rolling over onto his side, Tony closed his eyes and let out a sigh and let the exhaustion of the day overtake him…

His last thought as sleep claimed him was… _but __what __if __they __are __right?_

oXoXo

The next day dawn with a murky grey haze in the air, the weather reports said that the cloud would lift by mid morning at that it was going to sunny skies and bright outlooks for the next few days.

Tony could only live in hope…

By the time he got to work word had appeared to have gotten out about the 'Make Tony Talk Sweepstakes'. It was either that or he had been voted Mr Popularity for the month of October!

In the short distance between where he parked his car and the lobby, at least half a dozen people had suddenly taken a deep interest in his general wellbeing.

_Oh… I heard you lost your voice… how are you feeling?_

_Any luck catching that killer yet DiNozzo?_

_Your hair always looks so shiny Tony… what shampoo do you use?_

Things like that.

At first Tony took it light heartedly, steadfastly refusing to speak as if he was obeying Ducky's instructions to the letter. Playing on the fact that no one knew that he had knowledge of the bets being laid at his expense there was some sort of perverse pleasure watching their faces fall as he avoided uttering a word. His thought was to make whoever won this bet work for it!

But as the day wore on, Tony's mood had soured considerably as people became more overt with their efforts to break his silence from things as simple as badgering him with spurious phone calls hoping he would pick up or sending him incendiary emails trying to elicit a response from him, through to deliberately bumping into him or as in one case, dropping a case of photocopier paper on his foot 'accidentally' of course.

When a glaring Gibbs returning to his desk abruptly aborted one attempt by two young probationary agents from the legal department Tony was secretly pleased – he was over the joke now. He couldn't function in his current form. He was going to have to talk at some point… that was a given. The class clown was a nice suit to wear on occasion, but his job was the Senior Field Agent of Gibb's team and for that, he was going to need his voice back.

That didn't mean however that he couldn't at least have a little fun and orchestrate a small windfall for one of his nearest and dearest.

He looked at his watch. 10.45… gosh! He hadn't been down to see Abby yet – what could _possibly_ be a better time?

oXoXoXo

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><p><strong>AN edited... Thanks to the reviewer who pointed out the fact that I had Tony face planting his mattress before... oops... my bad!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey all. Here is the next chapter, with any luck, barring injury or serious interruption, I am hoping to have another completed come the end of the weekend. To all my wonderful reviewers, thanks I really appreciate it! ~Ozzyols**

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><p>oXoXoXo<p>

A whiff of familiar cologne was all it took for Abby to identify the person standing behind her.

"Tony!" she smiled turning to face her friend. "How's your voice?"

The grimace and high-pitched so-so sound that issued from Tony made her smile. Tony must have been awfully cute as a kid. Taking pity on her friend Abby automatically handed him her iPad once more.

"That bad huh?"

_Not really. Well, sort of… but not… The aching has gone which is good right?_

"Oh totally."

_Tell__ my __vocal __chords __that!_ Came the tersely tapped response.

Abby patted his shoulder consolingly. "It'll come back Tony, I promise."

A wicked grin spread across Tony's face. _I__know! __It__'__s __going __to __come __back __at __least __once __today._

"Tony! Ducky told you to take it easy." Abby admonished.

_Yes, but that was before it got out and people started making bets on how long I'd last._

Abby read the message; twice, just to make sure.

_Yes __Abby__… __bets_. Tony typed in response to her unasked question.

"Tony, that's… that's… horrible! I mean, why would anyone want to do something like that?"

Tony rolled his eyes. _Moolah __Abs. __The__ mighty __Greenback. __It__'__s __a __chance __to __make__ money.__ Don__'__t__ worry__ about __it_.

Abby couldn't believe her eyes. She whacked Tony on the upper arm… "Don't worry about it? Are you out of your mind? Tony, this is serious! How many people have tried to make you talk this morning? Hundreds right? Well not maybe hundreds, but a lot I'm guessing. Ducky wasn't joking when he said you needed to take it easy. You could damage your vocal chords permanently if you over do it. Sister Mary Patrick had an amazing voice but then an infection really messed up her vocal folds and they got scars all over them. She can barely talk in more than a whisper anymore. You need to take care of yourself Tony!"

Abby's frustration grew as she blustered at her friend. Tony's grin was getting wider by the minute. He wasn't taking her seriously.

"What?" She snapped finally.

_You're cute when you're cranky._

"Don't change the subject DiNozzo!" If she ever got her hands on the idiot who came up with the bet in the first place… wait… the penny dropped. How did Tony know about? It would be the sort of thing you'd want to keep away from the mark. "Tony? How'd you find out there was a bet?"

_Call of nature. Overheard some guys talking about it while I was in the head… they didn't know I was there._

Abby read the message carefully before looking up at her friends face. Narrowing her eyes slightly Abby scrutinized what she saw there. The trademark DiNozzo curl of the lip hovered at the edge of his mouth almost begging her to make comment. His eyes sparkled and danced like they always did when he was up to something – classic Tony. Satisfied that he was in 'playful Tony' mode she started to look away when a minute change in his eyes caught her attention. A darkness, a look, an expression, only for a split second… Tony was far to skilled not to be able to hide his emotions even from her, but for a brief moment when he thought she couldn't see, his guard had dropped and Abby was convinced that whatever was said in that restroom was more than just a passing joke. It had hurt him. And she was going to get to the bottom of it.

But first, she was going to have to find out what devious machinations would have Tony announce that he was going to speak today.

"So," she started slyly. "What's the plan?"

oXo

Two phone calls and a promise of ten dollars being delivered to Pieter Renquist's desk turned out was all that was needed to get Abby into the game. Tony smirked, it was childishly simple really. A ten-buck buy in got you fifteen minutes. So from 1245 until 1300 if Tony spoke Abby would be the proud owner of whatever pot had been collected so far. Neither friend had suspected just how much of a windfall that might be.

"Nearly fifteen hundred dollars Tony!" Abby exploded. "That's like a hundred and fifty people all betting on when you're gonna break Ducky's rule. If we only look at a standard seven and a half hour day, like you've ever done one of those in your life, but if we did, then that's like five days worth of betting – but I think the pool is running from 0700 to 1900 so that's like forty eight spots per day so we're probably looking about three days worth of bets."

The velocity that Abby's mouth was moving at made Tony's head hurt. He was more than a little surprised when Abs had told him that the pot was a tidy $1460. Of course some people had by virtue of it being what, midmorning of the second day, already lost out. That would attribute for the sour expressions so people were now giving him. It didn't matter now, in a little under half an hour he would open his mouth… say something loud…ish… and profound and Abby would be able to collect her winnings.

When they had hatched the plot she had offered to split the winnings with him, and as much as the idea of taking some of the money appealed to him, he knew Abby would put it too much better use. Now he just had to come up with a reason to talk, not that he ever really needed a reason.

"Tony?" Abby's call caught him off guard. "You're all right with this aren't you? I mean… really alright with this?"

A tiny frown of worry marred her complexion.

"I'm fine." He whispered.

"It's just…" Her concerns were unspoken, but Tony could read them like a book. Trust Abby to pick up that something was hinky. She didn't know the whole reason, but somehow she knew enough to realise it was bugging him.

He kissed the top of her forehead. "I'm good Abs, really." He sounded like a cross between mickey mouse and Don Corelone in the Godfather. At least the sting had eased. "Just get ready to collect, a charity somewhere will love you for it." He grinned and turned to leave the lab.

oXo

Returning to the squad room, Tony patiently counted down the minutes until he would speak and piss any number of people off. _Them__'__s __the__ breaks_ he guessed. It was an interesting experience to for once just observe his co-workers.

Ziva was engaged in a rather heated argument with someone on the phone, but was trying to keep it appearing that way from Gibbs who had just reappeared, ever present coffee in hand.

Two minutes to go…

"It is no good Gibbs." Ziva snapped returning the receiver to the cradle with a thump. "The legal department will not sign off on a warrant for Zack Nelson's property. They say we do not have sufficient grounds on the word of a seventeen-year-old girl. They are wanting more definitive proof of involvement before they will consider it."

"What are they defining as definitive?" Gibbs asked, offloading his credentials and wallet into his draw.

"Well… if that peg head I just spoke to was anything to go by, probably a signed confession.

Tony opened his mouth instinctively to correct Ziva then snapped it shut again. Still not time. He wanted to wait at least two minutes over Abby's start time to make sure that there was no chance for someone to call foul.

"So how do we get him to confess?" McGee asked. "I mean, are we even sure it was him? One teenager saying that Zack Nelson likes hunting doesn't give him means, motive or opportunity."

"Planning to blow stuff up isn't motive enough for your McGee?" Gibbs growled.

"Well, okay… but still how do we get him to confess if he was the shooter?"

"I don't know Tim, that what we're paid for"

Tony let his mind wander as his three team mates hashed out increasingly exotic ideas, well two of his team mates anyway – From Gibbs expression he was verging on that moment of head slapping McGee and Ziva both so hard that they would need to lift their coat tails to see where they were going. Silence did have its rewards after all it turned out, and as much as Tony would like to see it, it wasn't getting the job done. There had to be a way to get Hutton to give up the information they wanted without them having searched his place, all they needed to do was convince him…

A cinematic moment suddenly bellowed into life in his mind. …that they had the proof.

_DiNozzo, __sometimes __you__'__re __so __good __you __scare __yourself_! Tony smirked. Glancing down at his watch the smirk turned into a full-blown grin. 12.48… excellent – two birds, one stone!

"You wanna add something to this pow-wow DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked coolly.

Taking the time to stand and very obviously walk across towards Gibbs, Tony opened his mouth. Surreptitiously he glanced around noting how many other people in the squad room were glancing in his direction. Coughing, as is if to clear his throat, Tony finally spoke. "O'Malley and Perez."

The background murmur of people realising they had forfeited the hard earned cash was mildly comforting to the Senior Field Agent. Not nearly so comforting was the lazy yet dangerous glare he was getting from his boss. Now came the hard part. He really did have to speak.

"O'Malley and Perez were two airmen brought in to give testimony at the trial of two Marines, PFC Downey and Lance Corporal Dawson..." Behind him Tony could hear McGee industriously tapping away at his keyboard. Reaching over and snagging a water bottle from McGee's desk Tony took a long swig.

"I can't find any record of a Downey or Dawson on our files Boss."

"Did I say I was finished McFalse-start?" Tony shot the younger agent a withering glare. "As I was saying, these two airmen were brought in as a plot device by the brilliant playwright Aaron Sorkin, to manipulate a confession out of the main villain Colonel Jessup played spectacularly I might add by Jack Nicholson, in the 1992 classic, _A__Few__Good__Men_." Tony could feel his vocal chords tightening with every word; maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Tony, this is a real life case, not one of your stupid films. If you haven't noticed things don't work like the movies in real life!" Sarcasm dripped off McGee's every word.

Tony ran the tip of his tongue across the edge of his teeth, his jaw muscle constricting.

Gibbs hadn't missed the tension between Tony and McGee. There was still something underlying the team at the moment, but he didn't have time to beat it out of them. There was a bigger issue at hand. Gibbs didn't share McGee's offhand dismissal of Tony's comment. True, DiNozzo's idea sometimes came out of left field… far left field, but he'd trust his second in commands gut almost as much as he trusted his own. "What's your thinkin' DiNozzo?"

Pointing to the flat screen, Tony hurried back to his desk and started typing, within seconds words started scrolling on the screen.

_ _The whole point of the two characters in the film is to bluff Jessop into admitting that he had given the code red order. The defence team really don't have anything and they were just playing a hunch but needed leverage to get a confession on the stand. We know we can't get a warrant, but Zack Nelson's at work – he doesn't know that_ _.

Gibbs smiled briefly, he didn't know where DiNozzo got them from, but at times like this, who cared. "McGee, run background checks on what weapons Nelson has registered in his name, he does, I want a matching one here by the time I get back. Ziva, go back and get everything you can from Kristen, anything she can give you, especially about the hunting trip she went on. DiNozzo you're with me."

The orders had been given and Gibbs was halfway out the door before Tony realised that he was supposed to go with his boss. Grabbing his gear and bolting after the older man, Tony slid narrowly through the closing doors of the elevator car.

"How much did'ya win?" Gibbs asked, his eyes never leaving the illuminated floor indicator above the door of the elevator.

Tony blinked, blindsided by his Boss's comment. Exhaling a breath made of two parts incredulousness and one part admiration, Tony laughed. "How'd you do it Boss?" he finally asked as the elevator announced their arrival at ground floor. Trust Gibbs to know there was a wager… but how had he found out?

"You think I didn't notice when O'Flannery and Knox suddenly took an interest in our case?" Gibbs asked as the two men moved through the security checkpoint towards the parking lot. "You know gambling is illegal right?"

Tony gave his Boss a look of pure innocence. "Well then I'm good. No wager from this little black duck."

Gibbs arched an eyebrow reading between the lines. "So, what charity do you think she'll chose?" Tony's eyes automatically flicking towards the basement level windows along the south wall of the building was all the confirmation Gibbs needed to confirm his suspicions.

As they reached the car, Tony finally responded, his voice barely more than a whisper now.

"I don't know… but it'll probably involve puppies!"

oXoXo


	7. Chapter 7

**Again my apologies for the delay. Real Life can be such a pain at times! I promise that I will attempt to get another chapter up by the end of this week. I am on training prep all week and have Friday off, so I should have a bit of time to do some more writing. Thanks to everyone for the awesome comments about the story – I really appreciate them. ~ ATB Ozzyols**

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"Abby!"

McGee's call as he walked through the lab door had the forensic scientist look up from her desk. Lying out in front of her was a sizeable wad of greenbacks that she'd sorted them piles of neatly stacked bills descending in order of denomination.

Still smiling at the pile Abby returned her friends call. "In here McGee."

"Hey" he commented as he walked through into the back room that held Abby's desk. "We think we've got a way to get Zack Nelson to…" eyeing the pile of cash on the white laminate top, Tim faulted. ". Whoa, where'd that come from?" he blinked. Abby wasn't normally the type of person to flash cash around.

"Hey McGee! This? It's just some money that Tony and I won on a sweep this afternoon." Abby swept the cash up into one hand and transferred it into her draw.

"A sweep?" McGee frowned.

"Yeah," Abby confirmed as she rose from her desk. "Apparently some people in the office find it funny to bet on other people's misfortune. Tony and I taught them a lesson and now a charity of my choice reaps the benefits." A wicked glint twinkled in her eyes.

A low sinking feeling settled in the pit of McGee's stomach. "What… type of sweep Abs?"

"The kind that bets that how long Tony could keep silent."

McGee fought very hard to keep the apple of his throat from bobbing up and down like a yo-yo. Swallowing back the guilt that threatened to take his voice, McGee pressed further. He had to know how Tony had found out about the sweep. "Who'd you hear it from?" He kept his tone even and mildly disinterested.

Abby wrinkled her forehead. "From Tony, silly. Who'd you think?"

"Tony?" This was just getting worse.

"Yeah, he was in the bathroom when he overheard some of the guys talking about it. Between you and me, I think he's more upset about it then he's letting on, but you know Tony. Diamond Tipped drill heads would bust trying to cut through his layers."

Tony heard it in the bathroom? Could it have been when he was… when he was talking to… Oh God! The idea that Tony might have overheard his conversation with Alan and Mike chilled him, was that the reason Tony was being so pissy lately? Maybe… but then again, Tony hadn't made any indication that he'd heard his discussion… and the scuttlebutt about the wager had been pretty rife, it was likely he'd heard it some other time. Perhaps it wasn't so bad after all. McGee just wished he could convince his gut of that.

"What'dya need Tim? You didn't come down her to talk about my money."

"Oh… yeah…" McGee caught himself, pushing that niggling voice of descent into the farthest corner of his mind. "We think we have a way to get Nelson to confess to the shooting, I just need to check some of your results."

"Oh… cool… how?" Abby asked with genuine enthusiasm.

"Gibbs and Tony are picking him up now, legal won't sign off on a warrant so we're going to try and… well… con him into giving himself up.

"Sounds sneaky! I like it!"

"Yeah, well it was Tony's idea. Something about _A__ Few __Good __Men_..."

"Ooooh I love that movie!" Abby grinned. "…I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom that I provide, and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said thank you, and went on your way," Swaggering around the lab, her face and voice a bizarrely accurate impersonation of Jack Nicholson, Abby seemed in her element… "Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!"

Abby concluded her homage to Nicholson standing toe to toe with McGee staring flintily into his eyes. It was faintly disturbing, and yet vaguely arousing. McGee could feel a rush of heat around his collar, and rather embarrassingly other… body parts. McGee coughed lightly to hide his discomfort. "Very nice Abs."

Jessop-Abby disappeared in a blinding grin. "You really think so Tim?"

McGee smiled. "I half expected you to say 'You can't handle the truth'".

She shrugged her shoulders, the chains dangling of her latest collar jingling prettily. "That's so done to death. So what was Tony's idea?"

"We're going to make Nelson think that we've searched his house. Ziva's talking to Kristen Haskell to try and get more details about her trip with the Nelsons. Records show that he purchased a Remington 7400 hunting rifle back in 1997 at a gun show in Richmond Virginia."

"That's a match to the make and model I told Gibbs was used in the shooting the other day."

"Exactly. What I need from you is any other information you can give us to make Nelson swallow the story. The gun alone mightn't cut it."

"Way ahead of you my petite fromage!" Abby said, her fingers dancing over the keyboard of her computer.

"Abby why are you calling McGee a small cheese?" Ziva's amused voice asked from behind them.

"Oh, hey Ziva." Abby grinned as McGee frowned at Ziva's translation. "I think… this… is what you're looking for. The smoking gun as it were." A vector graph appeared on the monitor in front of them. "Major Mass Spec identified several organic compounds, proteins and metabolites from a swab I took of the casings of the shells and he's identified it as _Odocoileus__Virginianus__Urea_"

"In English Abs."

The vector graphic changed to an image of a dainty doe eyed… doe.

"How adorable" Ziva cooed.

Shooting a startled look at his killer companion, McGee couldn't keep the incredulousness from his voice. "Bambi?"

"No Tim, not Bambi. Bambi was a male, a buck. The compound found on the casings included the female genetic material of a Virginian White Tailed Doe. So, Bambi's Mom perhaps?"

"So Nelson was hunting deer before he shot the Commander and Gator?"

Abby shook her head. "It's popular for game hunters to lure bucks and stags out by spraying an area near their hide with the urine of a doe to attract the males. Zack Nelson's probably splashed some near his equipment and it got on the shells.

McGee wrinkled his nose in disgust. "How does this make our case any easier. Hundreds of hunters would do that wouldn't they?"

"Probably, but there is enough compound in the sample with distinct genetic marker that if we got his store of urine that it could be matched to this particular deer."

At his waist, McGee's cell vibrated. Glancing down at the screen McGee saw the call was coming in from Gibbs. Activating the screen with his thumb McGee answered the call. "Yes Boss?"

"_We__'__ve __got__ Nelson,__ we__'__re__ bringing __him__ in__ now.__Were __you __able __to__ get __what __we__ need_."

"Um… yes Boss… we're just finalising things now."

"_Interrogation,__ ten __minutes_." Was all the reply Gibbs gave before shutting down the call.

"They've got him. Gibbs wants something in ten minutes."

"You'll have to run with just the gun McGee, I only managed to get small swabs of the casings, and we don't have enough of a sample to use to incriminate Nelson." Abby sighed.

"Don' ..ave…nuff…wha…" a squeak came from behind them. All three turned to see Tony walk into the lab. "We ready?"

"We can match the gun, and there is deer urine that we could use on the casings, but we don't have a viable sample to use convincingly." Abby commented, toggling back to the analysis graph.

Tony studied the screen for a moment, Abby could almost see the cogs in Tony's head turning in unadulterated randomness, if she ever needed a living example that chaos theory worked, all she had to do was look at Tony!

Glancing over to a stack of lab equipment on a bench, a Cheshire Cat like grin started to form on the Senior Field Agents face. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find the iPad once more thrust into his hands.

His fingers flew over the screen before he triumphantly turned the pad around for all to see.

"_Well __then __we__'__re __just __going __to __have _brew_ something __up __aren__'__t __we?_

"What are you thinking Tony?" Ziva asked

They all crowded around Tony as he continued to type. "_McGee,__ go__ down __to __autopsy. __Tell __Palmer __we__ need __a__ specimen __jar __pronto. __Ziva, __it__'__s __time __to__ raid __your __drawers.__"_

"Excuse me?" Ziva's voice jumped an octave. "You are not getting anywhere near my draws Tony!"

Ignoring her comment Tony held up another message. "_C__'__mon __people,__Gibbs __is __waiting. __We __have __a __bomber __to __stop.__"_ Grinning as he handed the pad back to Abby Tony turned on his heel and walked out of the lab.

The three friends shared a look as they watched the retreating form of Anthony DiNozzo.

"What do you think he has in mind?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know… but knowing Tony… it's going to be interesting!" Abby grinned. "And I'm sure your draws are safe Ziva… Tony's a gentleman.

Ziva snorted

"Zee-vah" a strangled squeak came from the hall.

Grinning at Abby, Ziva tugged on a dumbfounded McGee's sleeve before following her vocally challenged co-worker out the door.

oXo

Gibbs sat across from Zack Nelson, silently studying him for that momentary sign that would confirm his suspicions that Nelson was their killer.

They had picked Nelson up outside his regular coffee haunt as he helped himself to a venti half-shot, cinnamon, soy latte with three sweet 'n' low and extra foam.

Gibbs shuddered at the very thought of putting anything like that near his mouth, and he thought DiNozzo had poor coffee tastes!

"I think there's been a mistake" Nelson scoffed trying to belittle the fact he was sitting in a stark grey room on an Ikea chair waiting for Gibbs to say something, only to be rewarded by a federal agent who seemed bemused at the whole situation. That knowing, indulgent smile that seemed to hover on the older mans face was getting very annoying.

The sound of the door opening drew Nelson's attention as the other agent who had arrested him and another man entered carrying a long item wrapped in opaque plastic bag. Setting the bag and a jar of yellow liquid on the end of the table, Nelson rose to the bait. "What's this?" he asked.

"Funny, a sportsman like you should recognise his own rifle." Gibbs commented.

Zack Nelson's stomach did a little flip. "You searched my house?" So what, they found his gun – the second amendment had him covered, he had all the right licences. "I have a right to protect myself," he snorted.

"Gated community wasn't enough protection?" the youngest of the agents in the room practically sneered.

Now Zack was getting annoyed. Any fear that might be trying to find a home in his nervous system was rudely shoved aside as good old-fashioned belligerent arrogance took over. He didn't need some suited lab-monkey telling him what to do. "That's typical, government officials telling me how to live." He sneered as he returned his gaze to Gibbs. "This is how you spend my tax dollars?"

"Nope." The silver haired agent shook his head. "This is."

Monkey-boy pulled a single sheet of paper from the pile in his hands and placed it on the table between them. Record of Ballistic Analysis it read. "Bullets from your gun matches the ones found in the victims, and your supply of deer urine matches the residue found on the slugs." Another sheet of paper joined the ballistic report.

Since picking him up at the coffee house, the second of the two agents had hardly said a word. As he now pointed out the connection between the report and the deer urine sample sitting on the table it became clearly apparent why.

He sounded like the frogs that lived at the back of his house in the pond! Nelson could only assume that the man was trying to say 'yours' though with that speech impediment it was hard to tell.

"With police resources are stretched so thin all you can do is try to solve crimes after they've happened." Nelson demanded hotly.

"That the line you gave Haskell?" the lead agent asked.

How could he man this man see? Was he really that obtuse as to not to want to do the best for people here at home? "What if you had… a hundred times the manpower for police at home and you could spend whatever you want? Like the military? How many deaths could be prevented?"

"It wouldn't've stopped you walking into that radio station"

"You wanted a voice for your cause, but Gator turned you down."

Zack flicked a worried glance between the young agent and his boss. For the first time since he walked into the room, the weight of his actions was starting to sink in.

"Where's the bomb?" Gibbs demanded.

They had him. Chalk one up to DiNozzo and his crazy ideas. Zack Nelson had implicated himself with knowing that a shred of evidence had come from his home.

Nelson licked his lips. "Arthur has it" Apparently he wasn't going to go down alone. Shame that wasn't going to pan out for him either

"… HAD it" Gibbs responded, "til last night…"

"When you attacked him." McGee stepped in, providing the voice that normally Tony would have.

Gibbs watched as confusion flicked across Nelson's face. "I don't know anything about that," he said, and Gibbs believed him.

The high-pitched ring of his cell drew Gibbs attention. Flicking open the handset he held it up to his ear. "Yeah Gibbs…."

"Arthur Haskell has been released". Ziva's voice stated. "What do you want me to do?"

"Bring him in" Gibbs said closing his phone, his gaze never faltering from Nelsons.

Tony watched as the businessman-cum-Urban-Terrorist started to unravel before them. Nelson seemed to be coming to the conclusion that his chickens were coming home to roost and seemed destined for the roasting dish.

"I swear I didn't take the bomb." He said emphatically "Why don't you just ask Arthur?"

"We plan to…" Gibbs said rising to his feet, collecting the papers from the table "he's on his way in… Cuff him." Gibbs stated pointing at Nelson.

As McGee moved over behind Nelson, Tony arched his neck and swallowed. Despite his best efforts to minimise the amount he'd spoken since the morning, the burning at the back of his throat was annoyingly still there, but at least it had seemed to have eased to a dull consistent pain.

"Stand up please." McGee asked, his mild tone sounding more like it should be on a shoe salesman than a Federal Agent.

As Tim secured the bracelets of the handcuffs around Nelson's wrists, Tony reached forward and unscrewed the specimen jar. Tilting his head back and draining the jar of 'deer urine' in one swig, afforded Tony the best bit fun he'd had in days. The look on Nelson's face was priceless. The perfect blend of horror and disgust.

This here, was the pay off! Getting Nelson to confess was obviously the ultimate aim of the ruse, but having a little fun at his expense made it all seem worthwhile.

McGee bit back a smile. "They say chamomile tea is very soothing."

Tony pursed his lips and nodded in agreement, actually it wasn't that bad after all and did seem to coat his throat. Raiding Ziva's desk draw for her tea selection was something he'd have to remember in the future.

Nelson was still trying to assimilate what he'd just witnessed as the scope of the NCIS Agents ruse started to dawn on him he knew he'd been played for a sucker. "This was all a bluff?" He shot a startled glance at the two men. "You didn't search my house?"

The sneer McGee gave him was exquisitely malicious. "And now we know what to look for."

Tony couldn't resist throwing Nelson's words back at him. "Your tax dollars at work." Tony rasped raising his chin and puffing his chest out slightly

These types of moments reminded him why he loved his job.

oXoXoXo

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	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks for all the great feedback. This chapter has taken a little longer than expected – dang spring flu/fever (don't forget I'm in Oz before you think I have gone seasonally potty!). This wraps up where "Dead Air" finished, anything after this is post ep and will resolve everything – and yes, for those wanting comeuppance for McGee and Ziva… I'm sure Tony has _something_ in mind! ~ Cheers Ozzyols**

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Ziva escorted a clearly conflicted Kristen Haskell from the observation room back to the conference room, and the waiting child services officer. The former Mossad officer identified with the young woman. Finding ones world turned upside down because of the actions of a family member was something Ziva was intimately versed in. It stung at your core, the sense of betrayal magnified ten fold when it came from a loved one.

To her credit Kristen had been a pillar of resilience during Gibbs interview with her father, but Ziva did not think it would take much to make the girl crumble, a thin veneer of pride holding her together.

Ziva reached forward and opened the door to the conference room to let Kristen in.

"Ziva? What happens now?"

For the first time since they had met, Ziva heard the tremulous innocence of a young girl in her voice. She smiled.

"Your father will be charged, and held until a preliminary hearing can be arranged."

"What will he be charged with?"

Ziva shrugged. "I am not certain. Conspiracy to commit an act or terrorism and handling of illegal ordinance most likely." Ziva watched as two fat tears dropped from Kristen's lashes. "However," she continued gently, "your father has provided us with important information about who was behind the murders and the planned attack. I am certain that this will be taken into consideration." Ziva glanced at the waiting CSO who understood the look, and moved over to stand next to Kristen. "I have to go." Nodding to the social worker, Ziva turned on her heel and headed back down to the squad room.

As she descended the stairs Ziva saw Tony enter the squad room from the other side of the floor. Ziva studied her partner carefully; they had been together now for over five years, longer than most marriages lasted nowadays she reflected sadly. Tony weaved between the cubicles towards his own desk with the same unconscious ease that he had always exuded.

He had intrigued her from their very first meeting – she acting on her father's orders to deal with Ari, him – sitting at his desk remembering, fantasizing in fact, about his fallen partner. Ziva freely admitted that from the dossier she had been given on the Senior Field Agent that from the on set her plan had been to keep Tony off guard with flirtation and suggestive overtures. She had not been quite so well prepared when he had responded with a unique blend of sultry reserve. It had been… enlightening. Here was a man who knew when he was being played and obviously enjoyed the thrill of the game, but refused to be drawn into it when his work came first. He challenged her as a woman as much as she challenged his masculinity.

Now five years later, something was missing from that relationship. When had it all changed? When had they lost the playfulness, when had the bitterness crept in? Was the honeymoon finally over? _You__ were __very __cruel __to__ him_ her better angels whispered. _You__ did __not __have __to__ say __what __you __did __in __the __car. __What __good __came __of __it?_ Ziva's conscience seemed to whisper.

A small pang of guilt churned in her stomach as Ziva reached her desk. Across the way Tony had settled himself in to his seat and was reading something on his monitor.

"Som…ing I can ..elp you with Agent Davi..?" Tony croaked without looking up.

"What makes you think that?" Ziva replied quickly, caught off guard by Tony's attention.

Unwilling to meet his gaze, Ziva started rummaging through her desk draw when suddenly an ear-piercing whistle blasted through the squad room. Heads jerking up in unison, Ziva and Tony stared in shock at Gibb's disembodied head hanging out the door of the elevator car.

"You two comin?" came the terse question.

Both agents didn't hesitate as the reached down and grabbed their packs and raced to the elevator.

oXo

"Assume everything is the bomb until we sweep the area." Gibbs instructed as the dark blue sedan sped towards Fulton Park playing field.

One hand clutching at the grab rail behind the drivers seat like a drowning man to life raft McGee filled in his co-workers. "The St Philomena Prep School Spartans are playing against the Oak Harbour Academy Patriots, the roster is full of the kids of a who's who of DC Politerati. It's the perfect targ…aghhahh!" McGee swore he felt his heart lurch from one side of his chest to the other as Gibbs use the park brake to slew wildly around a corner. Beside him Ziva merely grinned. _Traitor_. "We know Lane won't have the detonator, and he's gotta have it on a timer otherwise we would have heard something by now." His elbow painfully connected with the interior panel of the door.

"It is nearly 1630, could we be too late?" Ziva asked from the other back seat.

Gibbs shook his head. "Not likely, game started at 1345, if he's gonna blow this thing he's gonna want the maximum impact. That would be when the kids are off the field."

"Surely he would do more damage if he was to set it amongst the belchers?" Ziva countered.

"Bleachers, Ziva" Tim corrected absently as the car turned sharply into the road leading up to the softball diamond. "According to the league schedule there is a social barbeque for the families and teams after the event. If the game isn't over and it hasn't already gone off, then it's a good chance the bomb will go off during the barbeque."

"BOSS!" Tony suddenly hissed. "Over there." All three agents followed where Tony was pointing. On the far side of the pitch, a stocky balding man putting umpires pads into the back of a blue pickup truck.

"That's him, that's Matt Lane." Ziva confirmed as they watched their suspect climb behind the wheel of his vehicle.

Planting his right foot down firmly on the gas, Gibbs sped to intercept the now moving truck. There was no way he was letting this bastard get away.

Pulling the car to a halt nose to nose with the Ford, Gibbs glanced in the rear view mirror just in time see Balboa's team pull up behind them. If they needed to evacuate, another team of agents was going to be needed. Ziva had opened her door and was out of the car the moment Gibbs had come to a complete stop.

Weapon drawn and using the door as cover, Gibbs called out to Lane. "Show me your hands!"

Behind the wheel of his pickup, Lane complied immediately.

"Get out of the truck!" Ziva bellowed, sweeping out in a wide arc to the right, her Sig trained on the suspect.

"Y'missed a good game." Lane said smugly as McGee moved in to cuff him.

Dashing behind Lane to where the most likely place for the device to be Ziva swore under her breath as she looked in the tray of the truck. "It's not here Gibbs"

Gibbs didn't have time for niceties, "Where's the bomb?"

The sneer on Lane's face was all Gibbs needed to know that it was already set. "Good luck, you'll never find it."

Ziva feared he was right. The spectator area along the foul lines and behind the outfield was dotted with clusters of families enjoying their post game barbeque. Scanning the area for a potential site for her Lane could have set the bomb; Ziva's eyes glanced across a large red grill standing unattended in the middle of the spectators. _Matt__Lane,__Barbeque__King_… the memory of Lane standing next to the grill at her meeting at Arthur Haskell's house rose to the surface of her mind.

"That's the grill Lane used at the barbeque at Royal Woods!" she exclaimed breathlessly as her eyes were drawn to the large length of heavy-duty metal chain holding the grill lids closed.

"That's a lot of gas for cheeseburgers" Gibbs observed dryly.

Ziva's eyes widened. Without a detonator Lane had improvised a way to still use the bomb. "He's using the heat build up to detonate the explosives." She explained.

"It's too late, it's done." Lane stated as Gibbs and Ziva took off across the grass towards the grill.

"Federal Agents!" Ziva yelled a she holstered her Sig.

"CLEAR THE AREA!" Gibbs bellowed in his best DI's voice. "Go! Go, get outta here."

Ziva scanned the grill in front of her, looking for an immediate way to release the heat build up. Lane had done a good job, the grill was chained together in such a way that a person could not disconnect the gas from the grill without undoing the padlocks and unchaining everything. As she quickly assessed her options Ziva was absently aware of Gibbs berating someone to _forget __your __cheeseburger!_

Ziva half began to reach for her lock picks when she saw the facing of the temperature gauge crack. Like a countdown timer on a conventional bomb that had reached one, Ziva knew that she had no time left. She had to clear the area. Spinning around Ziva immediately saw that Gibbs had moved out of the range of the explosion as had McGee.

The final member of her team had not.

All joking, nagging, cattiness was flung aside faster than her dead sprint as Ziva barreled towards her partner. A thousand thoughts collided in her brain in that split second when she called out his name. From the goofy to the gruesome and all points between Tony had always been the one stand between her and danger, or at least try. From their first under cover operation tied to a chair taking a beating he didn't need to, to four years later when he did it all over again to take vengeance on Saleem Ulman for her 'death' Tony had always been ready to put himself in harms way for her.

"TONY!" Ziva cried as she threw herself the last few metres across the grass, sending both of them crashing to the ground as the culinary IED exploded behind them.

Ziva landed heavily on top of Tony, her first instinct as an Israeli, Mossad Officer, friend and partner – not necessarily in that order, was to shield Tony from the force of the explosion. Wrapping her arms around his head and her burying his face into the crook of her shoulder, Ziva felt Tony wrap his arms around her as burning debris fell from the sky all around them.

When the two agents opened their eyes, Ziva found herself gazing into the sea green pair belonging to her comrade. Laying the on top of him, Ziva allowed a smile to form on her lips as Tony gave a small moan before speaking.

"This is nice," he smiled in return, his damaged voice low and husky, and entirely too distracting. "I miss the old Ziva"

Ziva felt her grin widen, "I can tell"

The smile on Tony's face dissipated. "Don't flatter yourself, that's just my knee".

Startled by Tony's sudden rebuke, Ziva pushed away from him and rose quickly to her feet, her face warming with embarrassment.

"DiNozzo? David?"

Tony wheezed and sat up, his back was gonna kill him in the morning! "We're good Boss!" he replied as best his voice would allow, hoping Gibbs had heard him. Turning his attention to the rapidly retreating form of Ziva, Tony cursed his own stupidity. She'd just saved his life practically and he went for the cheap shot. Okay given past circumstances it could be argued that it was justified, but not here and now. A flying tackle to take you out of harms way wasn't something to be joked about.

Gibbs walked over and offered his semi-recumbent agent an arm, Tony sighed and willing accepted the offer of assistance to pull him into an vertical position. Groaning and arching his back, rubbing his hands across the lumbar region of his spine, Gibbs' Senior Field Agent gritted his teeth before shambling off towards where the others were gathering leaving the Team Leader to survey the debris field.

"Gibbs!"

At the sound of his name, Gibbs turned to see his co-worker Matt Balboa walking towards him with McGee close behind. At six foot four and legs that seemed to make up at least half that length, Balboa was making McGee work for it. "Looks like you've got a result." The lead agent grinned as he closed the gap.

"Thanks for the back up Matt." Gibbs nodded. "Could'a gone a hell of a lot worse."

"Amen to that." The younger agent redistributed his weight from left to right. "Say, Gibbs… Do you need us to stay?" He asked hesitantly. "If you do, point us where you want us, it's your shooting match, but if not, my guys have been on roster for ninety-six straight and I'd like to send them home if I could."

Gibbs nodded, he'd been where Balboa was on more than one occasion, the difference between the two men was… Balboa liked tea, in other words, he was a lightweight. "Realised as much, Murchison's sending two of his team out with the van to assist and we've got LEO's inbound. If your guys can take Lane and his truck back to the yard, we'll call it square."

Matt Balboa snorted at Gibbs' foresight – trust the man to know which side the bread was buttered – and nodded. "Sure Gibbs." He glanced down at his watch, 1715. "Damn… I promised Gemma I'd be home before 1800, she's gonna kill me!"

Balboa turned on his heel and loped off towards his vehicle, whistling in his team as he went.

Gibbs grinned, "Shouldn't've got married Balboa!" he teased light heartedly. "You want something McGee?" all traces of humour disappearing from his voice.

"Ah, yeah Boss. We've sectioned off the area, and started talking to the teams. Most of them are pretty shaken up."

"Well I'd be too if someone had tried to blow my kid up too McGee!" Gibbs admonished

"Right boss." McGee replied, ducking his head slightly. "The Senators from Maryland and Delaware are demanding answers…"

"They can demand all they like McGee, they'll know when we're ready to tell 'em."

"Callahan from Balboa's team has a growing number of media at the park entrance"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, if you've just sent them home, how are we…" McGee stopped mid sentence as his Team Leaders icy glared drilled into him. "… I'm gonna get the local LEO's to handle it. Gotcha Boss."

It took nearly two hours to canvas the playing field for evidence and get witness statements. Every scrap of blown metal, every fragment of charred plastic needed to be bagged and tagged, but finally as the sun sank below the horizon they had finished. All that needed to be done now was to get the evidence to back to Abby for analysis and interview Lane, both of which Gibbs told his team could be handled tomorrow.

"So Matt Lane planted a bomb and then stayed behind to umpire a game rather than flee the scene?" Ziva asked still clearly bemused that someone would risk blowing themselves up for a game of sports.

"We told you Ziva…" Tony smirked

"…It's baseball!" Gibbs completed with a shrug.

As if by some sacrosanct symbology the light towers dotted around the field burst into life, flooding the field with their pearly white light.

Turning to bask in the glow of the floodlights Tony and McGee gave matching rapturous sounds.

"You two need a moment?" Ziva asked.

"You'll understand… eventually…" Tony said sagely.

oXo

"You had some sweet moves out there Ziva." McGee was commenting as the four agents drove back to the Navy Yard.

Tony had to agree. When Ziva had pushed past him and McGee on the field and called on Gibbs to toss the ball with her, the Senior Field Agent had been mildly impressed with the prowess of their latest Probie.

"I can't say I'm surprised you're not without talent Ziva" Tony croaked.

"You were expecting that I would throw crazy pitches yes?" Ziva arched as enigmatic eyebrow at her co-worker

Turning in his seat to look back at her, Tony shrugged and cleared his throat. "I think you mean wild pitches, and okay, I admit, I kinda did."

Ziva smirked and raise her chin haughtily. "I have many strings to my bow."

"We should do that more, McGee sighed. "Don't they have an inter-departmental league here in DC?"

"Us against the best the Alphabet Agencies can offer? That sounds vaguely intriguing." Tony mused. The afternoon had taken a decided turn for the better, he was in the company of people he liked talking about sports that he loved… it was a good feeling. "I could practice my sports commentary." He grinned as Gibbs made the final turn onto Sicard St.

The derisive snort from behind his shoulder brought him up short. "Commentating? You Tony?" McGee chuckled. "I guess. But, I'd try horse racing, they get more talk for their time."

In the mirror built into the front passenger visor, Tony saw Ziva covertly cover a grin with her hand between the flicker of the passing street lamps.

"Yes Tony, you would be perfect for that." She agreed, the humour barely hidden in her voice.

Gibbs observed the interplay between his agents with his usual stoic reserve. He didn't need to turn his head to notice the subtle change in DiNozzo's body language. When Tony clenched his fist tightly around the grab handle of the door, it wasn't Gibb's driving that had caused it, neither had it caused the younger man's jaw to ripple as he obviously bit back on words he didn't trust himself to speak.

Tony had disengaged his seatbelt and was out of the car almost before Gibbs had a chance to bring the vehicle to a complete halt. Knowing better than to try and confront DiNozzo with whatever was eating him in front of McGee and Ziva, Gibbs reached down and flipped the catch for the trunk of the car.

Seemingly oblivious to Tony's mood, McGee and Ziva exited the vehicle still talking about Ziva's sporting skills as the joined Gibbs and Tony at the back of the car. As Tony reached in to grab his pack, McGee's arm snaked in from the side of the trunk effectively blocking Tony's access to his pack.

"I could really see you playing in an inter-office team Ziva, you'd make a great short stop."

Gibbs frowned, was McGee really that gormless to be able to ignore the daggers that DiNozzo was shooting his direction, or the faint growl that had issued from his already injured throat. As McGee continued to wax lyrical at his partner, Tony all but shoved the McGee's semi lifted pack into the unsuspecting agents hands.

"Hey! What the hell Tony?" Tim huffed in annoyance.

"Some of us have places to be McChatterbox." Tony snapped, snatching his own pack up from the trunk.

"Yeah, well all you had to do was speak up… oh that's right… you can't" McGee smirked puffing his chest out.

Gibbs felt his own jaw tighten. This had gone far enough. He allowed a small amount of snitchiness and heckling between his team because at the end of the day, they had proven time and again that they knew what really mattered. But this was going past 'sibling rivalry' and it stopped… now, before McGee would be picking his teeth up from the pavement and Gibbs would be writing his Senior Agent up on an assault charge.

To Gibbs great astonishment, Tony didn't react to McGee barb. His eyes sparkled with a dangerous glint momentarily, before a dullness seemed to wash over them. Slipping the strap of his pack over his shoulder, Tony turned to his boss.

"You need me Boss? If you don't I'm gonna call it a day and go home and gargle some disprin. My throat's killin' me, I hate to say it, but I think Ducky was right, I really need to hit the rack."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and assessed DiNozzo. Tony admitting to illness and calling to be stood down for the night? This wasn't good. But what could he do, he had no reason to hold Tony back and get to the bottom of this now, he'd already said that the processing of the scene and interviews would be completed tomorrow. Besides, perhaps an early night was just what the "Doctor" had ordered.

Gibbs mere nod of approval was all the lanky former Baltimore Cop needed.

Waiting until Tony had nearly reached his car Gibbs called across the lot. "DiNOZZO! 0700 – not a minute past, y'hear!" Tony turned and waved agreement to Gibbs demand before slipping behind the wheel of his car and driving out of the lot. Turning back to the agency car, Gibbs saw McGee and Ziva walking off towards their own respective vehicles. "Where do you two think you're goin'?"

"Err, home Boss." McGee said, confusion skipping across his face.

"What makes you think that?" Gibbs replied quietly beckoning the two agents to join him next to the sedan.

McGee moved back across to the trunk of the car. "You just sent Tony home and you said we're done for the day."

"No, what I said was we'd process the evidence and Lane tomorrow. Tonight, you're gonna write up your daily reports and get them on my desk before you leave."

"Gibbs that's hardly fair…" Ziva started.

"Fair's not my problem David." Gibbs replied sharply. "I've got to brief the Director tomorrow morning on what happened. You're reports are needed for the SITREP."

"What about Tony." McGee countered.

"What about him?"

"You'll need his too."

"Got 'em already. DiNozzo gave me his Royal Woods and Johansson interview reports this afternoon."

"Using his bluff and getting the confession from Nelson, won't be in the report." McGee all but pouted.

Stepping up toe to toe with McGee, Gibbs eyeballed the junior Agent. "You're right McGee, but guess what, I was there for that. You think I can't relay that to Vance without DiNozzo's help?"

The chill in his Boss's voice made McGee flinch. He'd gone to far and he knew it. "No Boss, sorry Boss."

Gibbs afforded him one final glare before pivoting and walking back towards the main office. His movement halted momentarily as he turned back to the stunned pair of agents. "I don't know what's going on between you two and DiNozzo, but it stops now. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal Boss."

"Yes Gibbs."

Without further word, Gibbs turned and continued walking across the lot towards the NCIS headquarters leaving two chastened Agents in his wake. Two down… one to go…

oXoXoXo

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><p>TBC<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

**To all my friends out here in FFnetland. I hope you had a very safe and happy Christmas/Hanukkah/Festive time/Holiday and are ready to ring in 2012 tomorrow night. Me, I had a quiet one and finally after 3 months of training a chance to catch up on some writing. This is a little bridge piece of Fadeout. I am 2/3rds through getting the rest of it finished… there are just some in between bits that need to be completed. All things being equal I should be able to get some more out to you within the next day or so. Happy New Year ~ Ozzyols**

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><p>oXoXoXo<p>

The apartment was cold when he finally arrived home. He must've left a window ajar when he'd left that morning. October evenings in DC were for the most part were brisk, or so the radio shock jocks had said before Tony had switched them off. A brisk 42.4 Fahrenheit, and Tony felt every degree of it as he dumped his credentials on the table next to his keys and wallet. Popping the combination on the small safe neatly tucked away on a shelf in his sitting room, Tony unclipped his Sig from his belt and secured the weapon and went searching for the climate control culprit. The billowing of his bedroom curtain had immediately had Tony muttering curses under his breath.

"Perfect" The chill in the air matching his mood perfectly.

Slamming the window shut with more force that was probably called for, Tony toed his shoes off as he shucked his suit jacket from his shoulders and loosened his tie. Running his right hand through his hair as he yanked at the silk noose around his neck Tony sighed wearily. _You'd think you'd get used to it wouldn't you?_ Tony thought morosely. _But you never really do._ He'd said those words so often about the wicked lack of knowledge of who exactly NCIS was, but more recently he'd found himself thinking it about his co-workers.

Hanging his suit up ready for a trip to the dry cleaners and balling up his work shirt and long shooting it into the dirty laundry hamper on the other side of his bed, Tony swiped a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his clean laundry pile and slipped into them.

He'd really been ready to move on out at the playing field. The team had spent a few minutes just enjoying each others company. No catty remarks, not snide comments. It was really good. Trust McGormless to open his big mouth and ruin it.

Moving back into his living room, Tony absently grabbed the remote from the coffee table and powered up his entertainment system before padding barefooted into the kitchen.

Why was he letting this get to him? McGee had made jokes like that a hundred times, hell he'd made jokes like that about McGee more times than he cared to admit to, usually more than once a day.

Flicking the cordless jug into life, Tony opened the cupboards and started pulling out various items. Time for some good old fashioned throat fixing. He'd feel better once his voice was back. Then McGee would truly appreciate the dulcet tones of Anthony DiNozzo Junior.

Dropping a tea bag into an OSU mug, Tony pored boiling water over it until it reached the top. Deftly juggling the jug and the mug, Tony returned the jug to its stand and reached for the jar of honey he'd pulled from the cupboard. Spooning a generous dollop of premium organic honey into the hot liquid, Tony snorted at the reaction he would get if the team ever saw him doing this. If they knew he drank hot black tea with honey McGee would never let him live it down, Ziva would smile smugly at his choice and Ducky… well Ducky would probably give him a three hour dissertation on the history of tea. Its medicinal Tony reminded himself, simply an old family remedy. Of course the old family remedy if you were Senior usually involved losing the tea… and the honey… and adding three fingers of Glenn Fiddich.

Stirring the rapidly dissolving honey into the tea, Tony dropped the spoon into the sink and headed back into the living room. Blowing gently on the drink to try and cool it, Tony lowered himself into his couch, sighing as the familiar comfort of the overstuffed furniture conformed to his shape. Mug in one hand, remote in the other, Tony amused himself channel surfing for several minutes before randomly punching in the channel number of one of the copious movie channels at his fingertips.

Irony it seemed, still had a sense of humour, as Tony scoffed at the fact the film he'd landed on happened to be _The Count of Monte Christo_ starring Richard Chamberlin, Tony Curtis and Louis Jordan. What could be more appropriate than a swashbuckling story of friendship and betrayal? Tony's mood darkened at the thought.

Reaching over to where he had dumped the controller on the couch, Tony hovered his finger over the off button. He didn't need this crap! He'd had enough to see him through the next several millennia.

Fate or providence stayed his hand just as Richard Chamberlin in the guise of Edmond Dantes spoke. _He possesses what few men can boast of... the devotion of one loving heart_. One loving heart. In the context of the film Dantes was talking about the love Valentine De Villeforte had for her Father, but the same could be said of his life; Abby was his one loving heart, honest, pure and unconditional. Tony smiled and put the controller back down to watch the rest of the movie.

When the door to his apartment opened of its own accord some fifteen minutes later, Tony knew it could only be one of two people and had a pretty good guess who it was going to be. Setting the mug down on the coffee table, Tony groaned and pulled himself to his feet just in time to see Gibbs tossing his keys on the dining room table as he set down a pizza box and a six pack next to it.

"Took you longer than I expected Boss." Tony wheezed.

Gibbs shrugged as he pulled a beer from the carton and twisted the cap off. "Paperwork." He held out a bottle to Tony.

"On a school night?" Tony grinned, then noticed it was low strength beer.

"D'ya want it or not DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

Beggars couldn't be choosers. Tony took the preferred beverage from Gibbs, removed the cap and took a swig. Tea, Camomile, honey infused or otherwise was nothing to match the cool tangy relief currently working its way down his throat. "Aaah" he sighed sliding down onto a dining room chair.

Gibbs eyed his agent as he matched him at the table. Tony had already flipped open the lid of the pizza box and had snagged the first piece. "You pissed at McGee or somethin' DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked just as the younger man took a bite from the slice in his hand

Tony swallowed hard, for three reasons really. One, the pizza slice was hotter than he was expecting. Two, he needed to clear his mouth to respond to his boss. Three, after a decade of working with Gibbs Tony had noticed that his the former Marine had an uncanny knack of demanding an answer the second Tony seemed to have food in his mouth… the ability to consume semi masticated meals had saved him from choking any number of times.

"No more than usual Boss." Tony deflected, a large chunk of pizza still tucked away inside his cheek.

Gibbs reached forward and picked up a slice for himself methodically consuming the pizza while Tony looked on trying to read Gibbs expression.

_Ten years… you'd think I'd have learned the signals by now!_ Tony grumbled to himself. No wonder he picked up sign so damn quick! Gibbs was the undisputed master of non-verbal communication.

While his Senior Field Agent struggled to read his expression, Gibbs was facing a challenge of his own; trying to read Tony's. The relaxed almost obnoxiously innocent expression on DiNozzo's face made Gibbs want to grit his teeth. There was something going on with his team, and it wasn't hard to guess that Tony was at the centre of it. At first Gibbs had put it down as just the usual banter-by-play that his three agents engaged in, the incident with McGee and Ziva mocking Tony's voice, the subtle jabs between the three of them, but behind it all every time he caught DiNozzo's eye there was something else behind it. Something the younger man wasn't going to give up easily. The incident at the car that evening had sealed it for Gibbs. Tony had a beef with either McGee, Ziva or both of them. An issue left undealt with could be the death of a team.

"Or you just hiding another off books assignment from me?"

The second the words were out of Gibbs mouth he regretted it, knowing he'd struck a raw nerve with Tony. Tony's eyes grew momentarily wider as the look of innocence fled his face as the sting of the words bit and was replaced by pain masquerading as flat blandness.

"I never wanted to keep anything from you Boss, you know that." Tony said, dropping the slice of pizza back on the lid of the carton and rising to his feet.

Gibbs couldn't be sure if the cracking in Tony's voice was from emotion or the inflammation, either way he wasn't going to let this slide so easily.

"Just like you're not keeping anything from me now?" He asked as Tony walked into the kitchen

Tony rested his hands on the edge of his sink. He knew Gibbs wasn't gonna let it go. Tony had to think and fast. Gibbs knew that something was up between him and McGee, or at least _thought_ something was up. Tony's wasn't even sure if McGee or Ziva even knew that there was something going on past Tony being in a bad mood. And really was anything going on? Tony didn't have proof that either of his co-workers had actually turned off the feed and mouthing off about it to Gibbs would just bring more pain than it was worth. So… cutting through the crap and looking for a plausible story Tony hit on a brainwave. As far as anyone was aware Tony was in a bad mood because his throat was sore! That was it. That was the answer… Now came the hard part… to make Gibbs believe it.

Tony let his shoulders slump as if the Boss had caught him out and turned the faucet on. "I dunno Boss. It's this damn throat." He let his voice crack as much as it wanted to hoping it would add an air of credibility. "McGee's been all McGiggle about it and I guess I'm just not in the mood." He took a swig of water before tipping the rest out and setting on the drainer. He turned back to face Gibbs. "You know what I'm like where I'm sick Boss, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. It's nothing. Give me a day or two and I'll bounce back." Tony knew full well that he was probably about as transparent as a pane of glass to his Boss, but just hoped that Gibbs would still accept what he was saying.

Gibbs stared at him with that almost predatory look that usually had suspects fidget uncomfortably and start thinking about lawyers whether they needed them or not. Unlike the unfortunates who came under scrutiny in interrogation, Tony had more than enough experience at the end of that gaze to know he was capable of holding his own against it. Of course that didn't stop Gibbs from giving it his best shot.

"Really Boss. I'm good. Let's put it down to 'that time of the month'. Of course, I don't get those times of the month… you'd have to ask Ziva or Abby about that…" Gibbs stare intensified uncomfortably. "Or… not… but you get the drift." Tony swallowed hard, wondering where all the saliva in his throat had suddenly disappeared to? God, he was babbling. Perhaps he wasn't quite as resistant to the glare after all.

Gibbs arched an eyebrow at Tony and picked up another slice of pizza. "You gonna offer me a coffee or what DiNozzo?" he asked taking a bite.

Tony felt his chest relax from the breath he didn't realise he was holding. Turning back to the kitchen he busied himself with setting a new pot of coffee on the go.

The silent sigh of relief that Tony had issued had not gone unnoticed by the former Marine. His almost overzealous actions in preparing the coffee was more than enough for the older man to realise that Tony was busying himself to stop Gibbs from having the opportunity to ask any more questions. The Team Leader knew his Senior Field Agent well enough to leave things alone for now. He had caught Tony at home and off guard and his actions were almost 'coltish' as he tried to bring himself under control. He gave it another 30 seconds before the calm cool and collected Anthony DiNozzo that most people knew would wander back into the dining area and slump rakishly down into the seat and make some smart arsed remark signalling that all was well… for now…

Gibbs overestimated by seven seconds.


	10. Chapter 10

**Happy New Year everyone! Wow, my first post for 2012… hopefully I'll be a bit more productive this year. Y'know I can remember 2011 like it was only yesterday (yes… ha ha, I know very bad joke.)**

**Here is the latest chapter as promised. Oh also, as a side note, until it was pointed out to me by Megamom2 I wasn't aware that the US didn't seem to have Kettles or Cordless Jugs to boil water in? My apologies for any confusion – the short explanation is, a cordless jug in Oz is a kettle that comes free from an electric base that gives the tea/coffee making individual more freedom.**

**Anyway… on with the story – and thanks for the reviews and comments! ~ Ozzyols**

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><p>oXoXoXo<p>

Tony had said his good nights to Gibbs and did a half-hearted tidy of his kitchen and living room before sloping off to bed. Falling prone on the deluxe memory foam topper Tony sighed deeply before rolling over onto his back, letting his right arm drape across his eyes.

Fighting momentarily with his bedding, determined that he wasn't going to need to get back to his feet to resolve the situation, Tony let out a huff as he finally managed to manoeuvre his six foot two form under his sheets and duvet. Slipping his watch from his wrist and dropping it on the nightstand next to his cell phone, Tony pawed the switch on his bedside lamp.

As usually happened, the darkness was suddenly all consuming as that moment occurred where the human eye tries valiantly to adapt to the lack of light effectively blinding someone until their 'night-vision', if you could call it that, became active. Lying there in the dark feeling his eyes adjust to the limited light, Tony's brain started its never ceasing game of cat and mouse with his memories. _Geez can't even wait until I'm asleep_ he thought bitterly. _Over active imagination, mouth running away before brain gets in gear, would do better if he closed his mouth and opened his ears_; all expressions Tony was intimately familiar with having heard them more than once over the years. Normally quips like that would roll of him like water off a ducks back, but this time. Tony groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. This time all those little comments were just niggling away at him.

"This is stupid!" he muttered finally, kicking off the covers and swinging his legs out of the bed. His head was suddenly thumping like Harold Hill had his seventy-six trombones playing in his brainpan. Dragging himself into his bathroom, Tony popped the blister pack on two extra strength Tylenol and tossed them into his mouth. Turning the faucet on he bent down and scooped several handfuls of water in as a chaser to the pills. Drugs taken, Tony clambered back into his bed and rolled over on his side, his left arm tucked up under his pillow, the right one resting gentle on top. Over two decades in Law Enforcement of one variety or another and personal demons that could make a masochist blanch meant that Tony rarely saw a completely peaceful nights slumber. Tonight he really hoped he would be given a break. Closing his eyes Tony sent a silent thought out into the universe for a quiet nights sleep.

It was a shame that the universe appeared to only have its message service available for requests.

They started innocuously enough… for Tony's dreams anyway. _Faces, pale and lifeless, not scary, just present. Faces he recognised from his past, faces of people he barely remembered the names of. Occasionally a ghostly form would warp into view like something from the start of the X-files, and inevitably it would be someone he did recognise; Paula, Kate, even Roy Sanders the unfortunate navy lieutenant that Ziva had been so fond of… and of course… his mother… But tonight they were different. Tonight instead of just wafting past him like mist on a winter's lake, tonight they stood in front of him, index finger planted firmly against their lips shushing him at every turn._

_A sea of incorporeal forms parted before him leaving an inky black corridor that drew him deeper into the landscape of his memories. _

_He was standing in a heavily decorated, almost oppressive room, the dark burr panelling on the walls glossy with age and wood oils, the rug beneath his feet rich in colour and cost. A voice called his name. Turning dream Tony saw the figure of an austere woman crowding into towards him, her mousey brown hair pulled severely back into a bun at the nape of her neck, her large oversized tortoiseshell rimmed glasses elongating her already pinched features. Tony felt his mind lurch. Mrs Bowditch, his first tutor. _

"_Children should be seen and not heard" she snapped, the high-pitched whine of her voice grating on Tony's nerves._

"_He never learns does he?" a familiar, mocking voice purred from the corner of the room._

"_Ziva?" Tony turned his eyes away from his teacher towards the sound._

_The lovely agent peeled herself away from the wall and walked towards Tony carrying an item that he had only ever seen in action once when he's been a cop in Philly and they'd raided a Madam's Dungeon._

"_He's not the fastest chip in the processor." McGee leered as he stepped forward to match his teammates stance._

"_Tim?" Tony heard his voice break._

"_Eyes front Cadet! Did I give you permission to speak worm?" a new voice bellowed. A meaty fist grabbed Tony's lower jaw and swung in back towards the front where he found himself eyeball to eyeball with the jet-black moustache of the drill instructor that had made his life hell at Rhode Island Military Academy._

_Frantically looking around, Tony saw more familiar figures of his past peeling away from the walls and advancing on him until he knew he was surrounded in his hellish dream._

"_If Tony closed his mouth and opened his ears, he would do much better a school," the voice of his fifth grade teacher resonated._

"_You have just proved my point Mr DiNozzo, as Abraham Lincoln said… 'Tis better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.'" Tony's face burned with shame at the memory of an ill-conceived answer he had provided years before in his English Lit course at OSU._

_The faces and voices of condemnation slammed into him like merciless waves against a small boat. Tony felt himself start to shake uncontrollably as they advanced on him. Tony raised his hands to fend them off only to feel their vice like grip snap around his wrists dragging them back down to his sides and him towards the ground._

_Looming over him, malice and cruelty glowing in their eyes, was dream forms of Ziva and McGee and the horrible looking leather and plastic contraption._

"_No…" he started to say as his assailants held him down. "No… please… No…." Ziva straddled over his now struggling supine form pushing a large red ball that looked vaguely like a clowns nose towards his face. Steely hands gripped the sides of his head while McGee knelt beside him and began to pry open Tony's jaw. "No… nooo…" Tony moaned between clenched teeth._

"_It is for your own good Tony." Ziva murmured. "Don't fight it."_

_The insidious looking object moved closer and closer towards him. "No, please, no…. I won't say anything… no…" Inexplicably, though he was pinned to the ground, Tony felt a sharp slap to the back of his head. Blinking and staring up at Ziva, he saw another face come into view._

"_DiNozzo, put a sock in it will ya!" Gibbs snapped, the sting of the words more powerful than the slap he'd received._

_Spent and defeated, Tony stopped fighting, giving in to his panic. "Shutting up Boss," he said finally as the phantom Ziva stuffed the red plastic ball of the gag into his mouth..._

Tony gasped for air and threw himself out of his bed landing with a heavy crash on his bedroom floor. Instinctively he reached for his mouth ready to yank out anything in it, only to find nothing there. Panting, Tony raised himself to his hands and knees, trying to fight the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him. Chest heaving, Tony struggled to return his breath to a normal rhythm. He'd had some extreme dreams in his past, but that was a first.

Moments later, finally satisfied that his chest wasn't going to explode, or that the pizza wasn't about to present a return performance, Tony pulled himself up off the floor and went in search of a glass of water. The greenish-white of the digital display of his DVD player caught his attention, 0521, nearly time for him to get up anyway.

Flicking the switch in the kitchen and hissing as the glare from the light hit his eyes, Tony squinted and fumbled open the refrigerator door and plucked out a bottle of water and twisted off the cap.

Gibbs was expecting him in the office by seven. Just enough time to get in some roadwork and shower and get to the office. Pushing thoughts of the disturbing dream he'd had to the back of his mind, Tony slipped on his running gear and headed out.

The morning was bright and clear but cold. Rugged up in an outfit of grey sweats and a navy blue beanie that he'd once jokingly referred to as coming from Rocky Balboa collection, Tony started pounding the pavement heading towards the tidal basin. As his run settled into the easy ground eating lope that usually accompanied his morning runs pushing the memories of that disturbing dream further to the back of his mind, inevitably the band struck up inside his head and treated him to a one man version of Bill Conti's iconic score. Tony grinned as he felt his gait lengthen.

He'd once bet his squad mates in Philly that he could cover the run up the Fine Arts Museum in less steps than Sylvester Stallone had in the first Rocky. He'd reasoned that Stallone was only a mere five nine while he was a good six two and that extra five inches made his stride wider. As usual there had been much teasing about DiNozzo being '_all mouth and no trousers_' so Tony had offered them a bet. If he won, each person who bet against him had to do all his paperwork for a week. If he lost he had to do theirs for a week.

The date was set and the tape had been watched… it had been general consensus that Stallone had done it in, charitably, 30 steps. If DiNozzo did it in anything less than that he was the winner.

Tony grinned at the memory. If he'd had been honest it wasn't a fair fight. Since his first day posted to Philly Tony had included those stairs in his daily run and knew he could do them comfortably in twenty five steps, okay so he wouldn't like to make the bet now, but back then – over a decade ago, he was only two and a bit years out of OSU with a phys-ed degree and he'd won the bet with ease. Tony winnings had seen him not doing paperwork for the next two months.

As Tony relived the glorious look of stunned amazement on his workmates faces that day, ahead of him, in the real world, the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson memorial were coming into view. Slowing as he approached his halfway point, Tony spotted a local coffee vendor he occasionally stopped at. Jogging up past the cart he heard his name being called.

"Eh Tony! No coffee today?" Vince, the proprietor, called.

"Sorry Vince, tight run today." Tony called back, or at least that what he attempted to do.

Lack of discomfort in his throat when he'd been abruptly woken earlier had Tony believing that Ducky had been right and a day of rest was all his voice needed. Of course he hadn't had the opportunity to test that theory until now. He knew he was talking, and sure it didn't hurt to talk, but what was coming out sounded muted in his own ears.

"What was that man?" Vince said, cupping his hand to his ear.

Tony slowed his jog to a walk coming to rest at the cart.

"I said, I'll have to take a raincheck on the coffee."

"Whoa dude, you lost your volume control or somfin?" Vince whistled at Tony's less than impressive vocals.

"Seems that way." Tony arched his chin up and rubbed his neck. Everything felt fine, it didn't hurt like it had the day before to speak, so why the _sotto voce_ all of a sudden?

"Sure you don't want somfin?" Vince asked priming his machine with a blast of air from the milk steamer.

Tony sighed. He'd made good time on the outbound leg and now had broken stride, a coffee to go and an even pace back wouldn't kill him. If anything it would give him a chance to work out the kinks in his chords.

"Sure why not." He fished into his trouser pocket for an ever-present five-dollar bill kept just for these types of occasions.

"Seriously man, that sounds whacked!" Vince laughed as he pulled together Tony's standard order.

"You should try it from this end." Tony scratched his eyebrow. If the director decided to have a game of Chinese whispers today, he'd be a shoe in!

"Here ya go." Vince grinned as he handed the insulated cup over. Tony reached to hand him the bill, but the young vendor waved him off. "Oh the house. Just promise me you'll stop on the way home and pick up some lozenges, cause ya kinda freakin' me out with that voice." He tilted his head to the side. "Kinda like Don Corleone without the gravel"

Tony snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You makin' me an offer I can't refuse?" he wheezed in his best Brando impersonation. Say… that didn't sound too bad!

Vince rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the Agent. "Go on… get outta here DiNozzo before you say somfin' we both regret!"

Tony flashed Vince a perfect DiNozzo disarmer of a smile as he walked away. Once out of sight of the cart, the smile vanished as Tony started talking to himself between sips to figure out exactly what was going on. He tried everything, shouting, singing, quoting agency regs, but after two streets, several odd looks, and one person crossing to the other side to deliberately avoid an apparently unbalanced man, Tony realised that nothing he seemed to do could raise his voice by more than a few decibels.

It was a perfect time then for a small knot of fear to lodge itself in the pit of Tony's stomach.

What if it wasn't inflammation from overuse?

During the interrogation their chemical cook Johansson had tried to get Tony off balance by hypothesising the possibility that fertiliser could atrophy vocal chords. _Brilliant! Just the thought I need in my head right now! Good one dumbass!_ Tony admonished himself as he headed back to his apartment. _What if he's right?_ that annoying little voice in the back of his head chimed in. _You could be seriously up the creek if your voice is MIA_. Tony gritted his teeth and kept walking trying not to think about the possibilities and the chance that Johansson was right. _But if he is…_

"Oh that does it!" Tony muttered.

Tossing the half finished coffee in the nearest trash can Tony broke into a hard run heedless of the potential injuries that not warming up could do… it was foolish to think he could outrun his own mind, but at least this way, it had something else to focus on.

Sweaty, sore and out of breath, Tony staggered up the steps of his apartment, the gruelling almost-sprint he had put himself through on the way back had done the job. The thoughts of vocal disaster had been pushed to the back of his mind and rational thought had taken over. His lack of volume was just a side effect! Ducky had been certain that there was no serious damage to his throat, and if worst came to worst, he would just check in with base doctor and get a second opinion.

Breathing heavily though his teeth as he reached his door, his side twinging from a not unexpected stitch, Tony pondered the idea of flopping on his couch and catching another couple of hours sleep except the idea of Gibbs busting his door down and hauling his ass into work wasn't high on his list of priorities.

Tossing his apartment key on the table, Tony headed for the bathroom and a brand new day.


End file.
